


More Than Enough

by Watermel0nBob



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: '&' means platonic relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grillby and Reader become really good friends., Light Angst, Reader & Sans will probably become friends?, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), fast burn, reader is an ass, reader is female, reader swears a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watermel0nBob/pseuds/Watermel0nBob
Summary: So, I became obsessed with Gigiree's story Just Enough, and it inspired me to branch out and write a prequel of sorts revolving around Papyrus. You don't need to read Just Enough to understand most of what's going on here, but I'd highly encourage it just for a good read! This started out as an attempt at a oneshot, but then I got so invested it's evolved into its own mini series! Most of what's written currently is parallel to Gigiree's story, and I plan to continue this as her and my stories continue. I hope you all enjoy, and any feedback is appreciated! Happy reading!
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Grillby & Reader, Original Female Character & Reader, Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale) & Reader, Undyne (Undertale) & Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 35





	1. It Started With Spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gigiree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigiree/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Just Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6474595) by [gigiree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigiree/pseuds/gigiree), [sinnabee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnabee/pseuds/sinnabee). 



The first time you saw him he had set a pot on fire, the acrid smoke billowing around him and the other students. You’d quickly run over and shut the burner off, putting out the fire with baking soda and glaring daggers in his direction. He had been entirely unphased, excited even at the sight of the rising flames, and it took every ounce of your discipline not to kick him out of your kitchen then and there.

He’d been surrounded by crushed tomatoes (not the kind in a can, whole tomatoes smashed to smithereens), a box of pasta laying open on the counter and the dry noodles sticking out of the pan. You’d tossed the whole pot into the trash, throwing the box to the floor and shouting in his face, ”WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING COOKING NOODLES WITHOUT WATER?”

  
  


“I AM COOKING WITH PASSION! IT ADDS FLAVOR LOUD HUMAN,” he’d boomed in reply, full of boundless enthusiasm and clearly proud with his feat. Your whole body had shook in fury, face turning as red as the tomatoes he’d desecrated on the stainless steel. Spaghetti hadn’t even been on the lesson that day.

Managing to swallow your white hot rage you’d sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before turning to him with a critical gaze,” Is this class a joke to you...” Shit what the fuck was his name.

  
  


“THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

  
  


“Right, Papyrus. I don’t know how monsters cook but this isn’t how food is made up here. If you want to stay in my class you need to get your shit together. Now clean this up and get the ingredients I originally asked you to grab,” you’d huffed, turning away to focus on the rest of your class. You hadn’t noticed the way he’d looked so crestfallen, his arms drooping to the sides in defeat before he slowly turned and did as you requested.

It was only when class had been dismissed, the kitchen wiped down and utensils placed in the sink to be washed did you speak again. He had stayed behind to help you clean, something you’d never asked any of your students to do. Yet as he used the industrial washer to rinse away the leftover food scraps, pushing the rack under the sanitizer, words began to leave him.

  
  


“HUMAN, Er, Human Chef, I’d Like To Apologize For Before,” he’d begun, wringing his gloved hands together in hesitation (you’d told him they weren’t allowed and he’d complied until he’d finished cooking). You met his nervous stance with one of steel, because even though he sounded sincere, you could never be sure. Monsters had been around for four years already, and although all of them had been kind, you had a bad habit of not trusting easily.

  
  


“My Friend Taught Me How To Cook,” he continued, feeling rather brave despite your intimidating presence, and his hands continued to wring circles as he forged onward,”It Was How We’d Pass The Time Underground, Besides Training Of Course, And It Was Always Nice To Whip Together A Beautiful Friendship Spaghetti To Go With Our Seaweed Tea.”

You didn’t break his gaze, feeling your resolve slowly begin to slip as he glanced your way, a look of deep sadness in his eyes.

  
  


“I Wanted To Impress You Human Chef, To Show You That I Could Be Something Great, And To Hopefully Win Your Friendship.”

  
  


And then he turned away like a kicked puppy, refusing to make eye contact. Even your hardened soul didn’t stand a chance against his genuine demeanor. Letting your shoulders slump you sighed, hand resting against your forehead in resignation. This was new territory for you, blatant vulnerability was not something you were accustomed to. You supposed it was a monster thing.

  
  


“Well,” you supplied, letting your hand drag down your face before finding his eyes again,” Tell your friend to sign up for cooking classes. In the meantime, you’ll be meeting with me after class for an additional hour to brush up your skills.”

  
  


What the fuck were you saying? Since when did you give one on one lessons? You didn’t know if it was the lonely look in his eyes, or that he’d had the guts to be so open with a stranger, but you wanted to help him succeed. It was the right thing to do.

  
  


“REALLY? I MEAN- THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD BE HONORED TO GET MORE TIME TO WORK WITH SUCH AN ILLUSTRIOUS CHEF AS YOURSELF HUMAN!” he screeched, before launching himself at you to twirl you around in a bone crushing embrace. You’d frozen up, yelling at him to put you down only for him to hug you tighter.

At this point you couldn’t be mad, because even if his spaghetti was an abomination, he had the drive and the attention to detail a good chef needed. When he finally bothered to pay attention, he’d done exceptionally well, taking every instruction to heart and executing it with near perfection. For such a novice he had delivered a delectable product, and even with your reservations toward his attitude he’d shown potential. That was something you could work with.

When you managed to break free from his grip he’d grabbed his phone, asking for your number with an infectious giggle. You had almost refused, because it was extremely unprofessional to give your personal number to a student. But seeing the way he looked so _happy_ , like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, you couldn’t bring yourself to object. When he looked at your name in his contacts his grin widened, looking down at you with glee.

  
  


“A BEAUTIFUL NAME YOU HAVE HUMAN! IT SUITS YOU WELL!”

  
  


“Why do you insist on calling me ‘Human’ then? Isn’t that kind of racist?” you replied, crossing your arms.

  
  


“I SUPPOSE, ABOUT AS RACIST AS IMPLYING MY COOKING IS TYPICAL OF MONSTER CUISINE,” he quickly replied, giving you whiplash with his brutal honesty. Well fuck, you had been pretty racist huh? You had the sense to be apologetic, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly and asking for forgiveness. His cheeks had turned a soft orange, but before you could ask it was gone, replaced by his cheery grin and a loud farewell slipping past his teeth.

You wouldn’t realize until later on how this night would become one of the best turning points in your life.


	2. Curry

Your first private lesson was curry, a dish you thought would offer a complexity he’d be challenged by, but not so complicated that he would shy away. You learned later on that Papyrus rarely shied away from anything. You’d later admire that about him.

You cooked side by side, walking him through each step thoroughly, and as the night went on you noticed he was a quick learner, focusing more on your actions instead of words. Near the end of the lesson you’d stopped talking altogether, letting him follow your lead before you were both left with a creamy yet spicy plate of curry and rice.

You sighed contentedly at the smell of turmeric and cayenne, eyes filled with genuine joy at your work. You were pleased to find Papyrus’ dish was nearly identical, and you praised him for it. He began to visibly vibrate, literal stars in his eyes at your feedback. The image of a happy border collie came to mind at his reaction.

  
  


“Well go on, taste it,” you encouraged, happily digging into your own plate and smiling. Before he could grab his fork you sampled his dish as well, taking a moment to smell it. The perfect balance of smoke and spice filled your senses, and as you placed the forkful into your mouth you were met with a burst of flavor, a delicious blend of creamy tang and a bite of spice. As you had assumed all along, he had executed the dish perfectly. Your eyes closed to savor the taste, groaning happily before swallowing and looking at him with genuine joy.

  
  


“This is perfect,” you murmured, licking your lips and setting your fork down to face him. He grinned, before taking a bite of his own. He froze, eye sockets widening in delight as his feet began to dance beneath him. Surprisingly, steam began to rise from his ear holes, and in your panic you reached for a glass of water and offered it to him. He silently accepted, guzzling every last drop before turning to you excitedly.

  
  


“WOWIE! THAT IS EXTREMELY SPICY! IT REMINDS ME OF YOU IN A LOT OF WAYS!”

  
  


The comment made your eyebrows furrow, looking at him with a hand on your hip in a way of asking for an explanation. He let out a “Nyeh!” before turning to fully face you in all of his tall, skeletal glory.

  
  


“IT HITS YOU IN THE FACE WITH INTENSE SPICE, SO MUCH SO THAT YOU’RE OVERWHELMED BY IT, BUT WHEN YOU TAKE THE TIME TO EXPERIENCE ALL OF THE FLAVORS, YOU FIND THERE IS A SWEET AFTERTASTE THAT MAKES IT WORTH TAKING THE FIRST BITE.”

You choked on your water, spluttering it out all over him and the floor, a blush covering your face at the compliment. How could a walking Halloween decoration have such smooth one-liners.

His hand quickly patted your back in concern, only removing it when he deemed you were okay. Wiping your mouth you looked at the floor nervously, hands fidgeting with your bandana,”T-Thanks Skeletor.... I think?”

  
  


“IT WAS MOST DEFINITELY A COMPLIMENT! BUT WHO IS SKELETOR?”

  
  


You barked out a laugh, explaining to him with amusement in your eyes as he seemed to ponder your answer. You grabbed your phone and showed him a few pictures, laughing louder when he looked almost offended at the comparison. Yet instead of throwing a fit he laughed with you, a warmth radiating from him that you welcomed eagerly. When you both finally took a moment to breathe he glanced at you, a question in his eyes.

  
  


“WELL IF I HAVE A NICKNAME, DOES THAT MEAN I CAN GIVE YOU ONE TOO?”

  
  


“I don’t think that’s very professional Papyrus. I shouldn’t have used one for you honestly,” you stalled, refusing to acknowledge the hopeful (and unexpected) flutter in your chest.

  
  


“BUT... WE’RE FRIENDS RIGHT? FRIENDS GIVE EACH OTHER COOL NICKNAMES!” he questioned, and then he gave you fucking puppy dog eyes. Your mouth flattened into a nervous line, sweat forming on your forehead as you attempted to resist. You could feel your will crumbling the longer you stared into those dark sockets of longing. How the fuck did he even do that? You only lasted 30 seconds before groaning and nodding, and your thanks was another rib cracking hug.

  
  


“WONDERFUL! TELL ME, WHAT WAS THE SPICE USED IN OUR CURRY HU-FRIEND?”

  
  


“Uh, Cayenne, it’s a type of chili pepper,” you replied, wondering where he was going with this. He seemed to grow more excited, before tenderly grabbing your hand into his own. You marveled at the feeling of his bones against your skin. They were warm, and the slender phalanges felt slightly porous against your calluses. You ignored the part of your mind that liked it.

  
  


“I’D LIKE TO CALL YOU CHILI IF THAT’S OKAY,” he said softly, not as quiet as the first night you’d talked, but a gentleness you hadn’t quite expected. You swallowed, focusing a little too long on your joined hands before looking up at him and nodding. He “NYEH’D” in delight, ready to grab you into another tight embrace but abruptly stopped himself.

You tilted your head curiously, before noticing he was wringing his hands again. The clacking of bones was mildly unnerving, but you ignored it in favor of focusing on his nervous expression.

  
  


“Chili...” he began, and now you were really concerned. This skeleton was very good at making you feel things you often didn’t for others.

  
  


“I Just Wanted To Thank You,” he continued, still refusing to meet your eyes, ”I Know My Greatness Is A Lot To Handle, And Most Humans (and monsters) Are Unable To Keep Up With My Awesomeness. It Can Be....Discouraging To Try And Make Friends. But You Make Me Hope That I Will Meet More People Like You.”

  
  


A silence fell over the two of you, mostly because you were struggling with your own internal feelings. Your soul was crying out at the injustice of his situation, wanting to find whoever made him feel this way and crush them. On the other side of the coin, you were flighty, not used to being confronted with such raw feelings. His vulnerability was your kryptonite, something that when forced to deal with emotionally crippled you. You were emotionally crippled enough as is.

Yet this didn’t stop you from making your next move, unable to handle the way he looked so scared that you would reject him, and so your body moved of its own volition towards him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, hands trying to find purchase against his back despite the vast height difference. Then you stood there, like the emotionally constipated fool you were, and hoped the poor excuse of a hug would do. Even if you couldn’t take the pain away, couldn’t offer loving reassurances or kind words, you prayed that this would be just enough.

(Little did you know, it was more than enough.)


	3. Feelings? Never Heard of Em

He had said he needed to make a phone call when class was dismissed for the day. He’d only be five minutes, he assured. That was nearly twenty minutes ago, and you’d learned these past few weeks that Papyrus was never late.

Growing impatient you stormed out of the room, looking down the hall both ways before blindly picking a direction. A sick feeling hit your gut all at once, making you take pause. Instinctively turning to the left you continued, and followed this train of thought until you eventually heard a familiar nasally lilt.

You broke into a brisk jog, slowing when you turned the corner to find Papyrus against a wall, barricaded in by three students. At a distance, they all looked to be having a conversation, the skeleton’s tone bright and friendly as he spoke. But you knew better.

He seemed off, not as loud as he usually was, and there seemed to be sweat dripping down his skull. One of the students yanked at his scarf, seeming to only be examining it, but the embarrassed blush on your friend’s cheeks and their loud laughter told you otherwise.

Something inside you bristled, urging you to ACT, and with purpose in your steps you approached them swiftly.

“Would you like to explain why you’re touching someone’s belongings without permission?” you barked, your tone hard and commanding. The two boys to the side started, before looking away in guilt. The leader of the pack was undeterred, turning to face you with a cocky smirk.

“Hey now, we’re just havin’ a chat teach’. Shouldn’t you be off bakin’ cupcakes or something?” he drawled, a glimmer behind his eyes gleaming ill Intent. You were unconvinced, stepping closer and squaring your shoulders. Calmly crossing your arms you stared him down, a growl threatening to escape your throat. The righteous fury in your chest was intense, a tiger in its cage wishing to break free and strike.

“It seems my duties were interrupted by a bunch of chucklefucks harassing a fellow student. If I recall your classes are on the second floor, and were done a half hour ago. What purpose do you have down here?” rage had simmered into a chilling calm, your eyes flickering yellow behind the irises. His grin faltered, his friends slowly backing up behind him. They were smart enough to know when to walk away, but Captain Fuckface unfortunately was not.

“Who do you think you are to talk to _me_ like that? Do you _know_ who I am?” he snarled, clenching the scarf tightly in his fist. Your control snapped, the fire back tenfold and your body lurching forward before you could stop it. You stood over him, face inches from his as you yanked the red fabric from his grasp.

  
  


“You should do your research before you try and pick a fight with a Chairman of the School Board. I know exactly who you are, you petulant twit. The only reason you got accepted here is because daddy knew whose ass to kiss and pockets to line. You can act like you’re hot shit all you want, but I can see right through you. You’re a sad little boy whose mommy didn’t love him enough because she was too busy drinking her life away. Now get the FUCK away from my student. We’ve got quiche to make.”

  
  


You didn’t bother waiting for a reply, grabbing Papyrus’s hand in your own and leading him away at a brisk pace. You were still fuming, because as satisfying as it had been to rip the brat a new one, it wasn’t enough. You had to do more, you had to make them pay for what they did. It wasn’t right, and they likely would do it again, hell they’d probably done it before. Just as you were about to round the corner, Fuckface shouted, “Enjoy fucking Grim Reaper bitch!”

  
  


You were ready to unleash hell upon him when a gloved hand rested on your shoulder. Your head whipped in Papyrus’ direction, emotions pouring off you in waves and nearly swallowing his soul whole. It was nearly unbearable, but he powered through it for your sake.

  
  


“Please Leave It,” he whispered, and like the wind being knocked out of your sails, all of the gusto left you. Your body slumped slightly against him in resignation, and you refused to meet his eyes. You didn’t cry, but he could feel your soul’s distress, having failed to make things right. He grabbed your hand again and led you away, silence following in your wake.

He still hadn’t spoken when you entered the class kitchen, and once the door was shut he moved to the fridge. He took out a gallon of milk, setting it down before turning to the cabinet to grab two glasses. He diligently filled them, placing one in front of you. You took a small sip as he put the milk back, and silently observed as he grabbed something from his bag. With a soft click of his phalanges a container was placed between you, and when he opened the lid the scent of ginger and cinnamon wafted your senses. Your mouth watered, and without a second thought you pulled out one of the cookies. A gingerdoodle; baked to perfection and half dipped in white chocolate. Dunking it in the cup with eagerness you took the first bite, your sorrow quickly melting into a pleasant bliss.

  
  


“When did you-?”

  
  


“You Had Given The Recipe And Instructions To Your Mother Over The Phone.”

  
  


“...That was over a week ago???”

  
  


“And?”

  
  


“I-” you set the cookie on a napkin and walked over to him. Your hands reached up to grab his cheekbones, bringing him closer and staring deeply into his eyes. (He was so glad humans couldn’t hear souls like monsters, because in that moment his was keening at your touch)

  
  


“You are the smartest being I’ve met,” you whispered, eyes searching his, “You have unlimited potential in that thick skull of yours. You could take on the world without breaking a sweat Papyrus. Do you understand just how crazy it is that you could remember and perfect a recipe you heard someone mention in _passing_ ? Do you not realize just how fucking _amazing_ you are?”

  
  


“L-Language.”

  
  


“NNNGYAH!” you screeched, lightly headbutting him before ripping away with clenched fists. You paced the rows of cooking stations impatiently, huffing with each step as you seemed to be working something out of your system. Just when he thought you’d pace a rut in the floor you came to an abrupt halt in front of him.

  
  


“You need to stand up for yourself Paps,” you murmured, and he couldn’t handle the tears in your eyes. He closed the distance and embraced you, hand cradling the back of your head with the utmost tenderness as you sobbed into his shirt. You stood there for ten minutes in each other's arms, and it was with great reluctance you let go.

  
  


“I’ll see you next week, we’ll make spaghetti after class,” you sniffled, trying to convince him your smirk was genuine. You didn’t like the way he was looking at you, it reminded you that you weren’t invincible, and you longed to say anything to get that penetrating gaze off of you. He only quirked a small grin, nodding his agreement before grabbing his things. He left the cookies for you to take home, and as he made his way to the door he let his hand brush your shoulder tenderly.

You ignored the shiver trailing down your spine, fought back the urge to turn around and ask him to stay, because you didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings fluttering in your chest right now. You wanted to stuff them deep down and lock them away never to be seen again. What you were feeling was extremely unprofessional, unrealistic, not to mention entirely foreign and scary as hell (you pretended that wasn’t the main reason for your denial).

Only when the door closed behind him did you break, crumbling to the floor and releasing more sobs and bitter tears. You hated that you couldn’t be brave like him, couldn’t say how you felt or put your heart on your sleeve like he did so effortlessly. You were so angry that you couldn’t be honest with yourself, because you knew, for him, you could never be enough.

(He stood outside the classroom and listened to your sobs, a hand hesitantly hovering over the door handle. He felt useless, hurting for you and your broken soul that cried out to his so earnestly. He was brave, but still not enough to tell you how he felt. He needed to be able to do it right, because there were no words in the world that could explain that to him, you were more than enough.)


	4. When Things Went Wrong

You had pestered him for nearly two weeks before he agreed to bring you to Grillby’s. The waft of fried foods and ketchup filled your nose as you stepped through the doors, your stomach gurgling in anticipation. You approached the bar in earnest, bouncing like a child in a candy store as Papyrus reluctantly followed suit. Once he was seated you spun your barstool and grasped his hands tightly, eyes like stars.

  
  


“What should I get first, Paps? There’s so many things to choose from,” you giggled, a look of carefree wonder lighting your complexion. (It was strange for him to see you so open for once, like the world wasn’t a weight on your shoulders dragging you down.)

  
  


“I DESPISE EVERYTHING ON THE MENU! IT’S NOTHING BUT GREASE AND SLUDGE THAT WILL CLOG UP YOUR BONES,” he pouted, refusing to look at you despite how adorable you were acting. You rolled your eyes, drumming your fingers on the bar as you waited to be served.

Despite monsters being on the surface for years, you hadn’t gotten the chance to try their cuisine. You’d been so busy with your class that you couldn’t justify taking the time to come over, despite the bar being a fifteen minute drive from work.

To finally get the chance was a delight you could no longer contain, and it only expanded when you caught sight of a literal flame walking out of the kitchen. You tried to stifle a squeal of excitement (seriously, that was fucking rude to gawk), resorting to coughing in your hand and quickly looking anywhere but at the bright monster now standing in front of you. He gave you a knowing look, turning to your skeleton companion and nodding in greeting.

  
  


“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you Papyrus, I see you’ve brought a friend,” his tone shifted when he mentioned you, and you had the sense to look ashamed as he stared you down. Yet something else bothered you about him, the way his eyes studied every inch of you like you were a specimen on a platter.

He was sizing you up for some reason, and you were inclined to meet his challenge, but the casual touch of Papyrus’ hand on your knee was enough to quell the urge. You turned to him, softly smiling as he introduced you.

“GREETINGS GRILLBY! IT’S BEEN AWHILE, THIS IS CHILI, SHE TEACHES MY COOKING CLASS!” he chirped, pleasant and polite with the elemental despite the distaste for his food choices. You quickly gave Grillby your real name, offering a hand for him to shake. You noticed his hesitation, but it didn’t stop him from returning the gesture. He squeezed, and you internally bristled at the sensation. You were about to squeeze back harder when Papyrus quietly cleared his throat, making you momentarily forget your sudden irritation.

  
  


“What can I get for you today?” Grillby finally asked the magical question, and with an almost manic glee your eyes roamed the menu, weighing the choices in your mind before landing on a classic.

  
  


“I’ll take a burger, some pink in the middle, a side of mayo and extra crispy fries please!” you recited, practically vibrating off the stool and onto the floor. Papyrus groaned, hand falling into his hands as he whined, “YOU WOULD LIKE THE BURGERS JUST LIKE MY LAZYBONES BROTHER! I WILL HAVE MILK PLEASE GRILLBY!”

  
  


“Milk?” you asked. You’d always known Papyrus to be a little offbeat, but the request still threw you.

  
  


“OF COURSE! IT’S MADE OF STRONG BONES!”

  
  


You didn’t really know how to respond to that. You chose not to comment.

  
  


Grillby nodded at his request, about to make your order when your gasp gave him pause. You were staring at the top shelf of liquor, seeing all of the new and magical labels. Monster alcohol.

  
  


“I’d also like to try some of the monster alcohol if that’s alright, is there anything you’d recommend for a first timer?” you inquired, eyes still shining. The elemental pondered, before turning and grabbing a bottle of Echo Flower wine from the top shelf. Grabbing a standard wine glass he poured it half way, sliding it to you with practiced ease. You thanked him, immediately giving a tip before turning to your companion.

  
  


“Do you like this stuff Paps?”

  
  


“NO, I HAVE NO INTEREST IN GETTING INEBRIATED LIKE YOU.”

  
  


“Boo, why are you so cranky today?”

  
  


“I CAN FEEL THE GREASE STICKING TO MY BONES TRYING TO KILL ME SLOWLY!”

  
  


“Hey,” you spoke in a hushed tone, leaning towards him so only he could hear. Your breath tickled his nasal concha, and if he was able to he’d probably sneeze, but his eyelights were trained solely on you. The wine was now forgotten, and despite you longing to feel the liquid slip past your lips you had other things to worry about.

  
  


“If you’re really not comfortable we can go, I can always come back on my own,” you continued, grabbing his hand without hesitation. Contact had unconsciously become more frequent between you two, whether it was gentle brushes or passing nudges. It was so common at this point it would be weird if you _hadn’t_ offered physical reassurance to your inquiry.

Papyrus searched your expression only for a moment, before offering a soft smile and shaking his head, ”We Can Stay. BUT I INSIST YOU GO ON A JOG WITH ME ONE OF THESE DAYS!”

  
  


“Oh god that sounds like torture,” your head fell to the bar dramatically, and when you lifted it you saw a younger woman at the other side of the bar casually chatting with Grillby, smiling and popping a fry into her mouth. She wore all yellow, so bright and inviting. What really caught your eye though was the yellow scarf wrapped around her neck.

  
  


“Hey, I like your scarf!” you called over the bar, causing them to pause their conversation. She blinked before offering a kind smile and nod of thanks. You grinned, ready to ask where she got it when Papyrus’ nasally tone spoke behind you.

  
  


“YOU LIKE IT SO MUCH BECAUSE IT MATCHES YOUR SOUL!”

  
  


“My what now?” you flipped back over to him, suddenly very focused.

  
  


“YOUR SOUL, IT’S YELLOW FOR JUSTICE.”

  
  


“Pshaw,” you scoffed, finally taking a lazy sip of the wine and finding it to be delectable. You marvelled at how it fizzled in your mouth, evaporating before it could reach the back of your throat. You could get used to this. Downing the rest in quick succession you turned back to the skeleton to continue your point, “I’m sure my soul trait is Dumbass or something. Ain’t accomplished much in my life ‘cept teach you how to put that big brain of yours to use.”

  
  


Okay, maybe the wine was stronger than you’d expect it to be.

  
  


What surprised you was the genuine laughter now leaving Papyrus, his shoulders shaking in mirth and his arm clutching his torso (or was it spine?) in amusement. You quirked a brow, clearly not understanding the joke. Wiping away a nonexistent tear he sighed, looking back at you with a soft expression, “You Are Much More In Tune With Your Soul Than You Think Chili.”

  
  


You waved him off, politely flagging Grillby down for a glass of water. As much as you liked the taste of monster alcohol,you thought one glass was enough for your first time. Grillby dropped the water off with your plate of food, the rise of steam an invitation to dig in.

Another pass and he dropped a salad in front of Papyrus, a kind smile present as he returned to his previous conversation. You blinked, before grinning and jerking a thumb in Grillby’s direction, “See Skeletor, he’s not so bad. He made a salad just for you!”

  
  


Without much thought you took a large bite of burger, and you swore you almost came then and there. It was the perfect temperature, juice oozing from the meat and assaulting your mouth with a savory combination. Before you could chew the last bite it disappeared, and you eagerly went in for a second. You whined pleasantly, eyes closed as you lived the entire fantasy that was a good ass burger. (If only they’d been open, you would see the bright orange nearly engulfing Papyrus’ face. He had to look away, trying to stop his mind imagining those sounds in a different setting.)

  
  


“He Is Kind, And I Am Very Grateful For Him. He’s Helped My Brother Through A Lot In His Own Way,” he sounded wistful now, the orange fading from his cheeks as he looked at the bar quietly. You frowned, wiping your mouth with a napkin and leaning towards him again. He glanced up and smiled softly again, and it bothered you just how much the subject of his brother could take away his shine.

You knew some things about the older skeleton, Papyrus certainly didn’t hesitate to mention him, but you couldn’t bear to pry when every time you did something in him changed. There was love there, a sense of longing, and it always faded into mild resignation that did not suit Papyrus well.

  
  


“How’s your salad?” you changed the subject, because you and feelings were never on speaking terms. He brightened slightly, turning to take a bite and thoughtfully chewed. With a satisfied hum he nodded, quickly picking up another forkful and offering it to you. You happily accepted, humming approvingly at the crispness of the greens and butteriness of the crouton. You nodded, before grabbing a fry to chase away the healthy food. Papyrus grimaced, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

He was fun to mess with sometimes. Honestly, anything was better than the look of loneliness that sometimes plagued him.

  
  


“Well, we should get going before we miss that MTT marathon,” you yawned, stretching and waiting for Grillby to bring the tab. As if hearing you (he was only further down the bar after all), the elemental returned with your total, and without a thought you went to pay. A hand stopped you, and you turned to see Papyrus giving an insistent stare. You blinked, narrowing your expression and snatching the paper before he could see, “Nuh uh, I dragged you here. Least I could do is pay for us.”

  
  


“IT IS CUSTOMARY FOR THE GENTLEMAN TO PAY ON THE FIRST DATE.”

You spat out the water you’d just taken a sip, splashing it all over yourself and the bar, nearly catching Grillby in the crossfire. He was certainly not pleased, and you scrambled to clean up the mess with murmured apologies. When the counter seemed dry you turned back to the monster beside you, expression shocked to say the least.

“T-This is a date?” you spluttered, worrying your cardigan between your fingers. What the hell gave him that idea?

You guys had been texting and meeting up at the school for months now, but it had always been friendly. You had never tried to make advances, not even a perverted joke because you knew he wouldn’t be amused. Your conversations had always been casual, so you couldn’t find the logic in his statement.

  
  


“I ASSUMED SO, CONSIDERING YOU INVITED ME SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE OF THE CLASSROOM SETTING. I WAS GOING TO ASK FIRST BUT YOU BEAT ME TO IT,” he droned, as if the reasoning was obvious. Meanwhile your mind was reeling, running through all of the ramifications of this conversation, of the implications of dating a student.

You hadn’t even considered what your request would look like to him, how he might even feel about you (you also chose to ignore the increasingly obvious feelings you’d begun to have for him). Your mouth was gaping, hand curling open and shut on the bartop.

  
  


“Paps I- Hey, can you give us some space please?” you turned to Grillby who was suddenly hovering rather closely. He glared, and you swore his flame rose higher atop his head. The gesture prompted you to respond in kind, but Papyrus’s hand was over yours interrupted you. He nodded to Grillby, who at the motion reluctantly gave you two your space. Geez, what was his problem?

  
  


“Listen, dating was not something I was... that wasn’t my intention,” you began, because no matter how uncomfortable you felt about the situation you’d stupidly put yourself in, you couldn’t hide anything from Papyrus. He was an adult, a very intelligent one, and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you danced around the topic just to appease him. That wasn’t the right thing to do.

  
  


“I’M NOT FOLLOWING, YOU LIKE ME DON’T YOU?”

  
  


“Well, yeah, course I do Pap-”

  
  


“THEN WHAT IS WRONG WITH US PURSUING SOMETHING MORE?”

  
  


“Because you’re my student that’s why!” you hissed between your teeth, feeling Grillby’s eyes boring into your skill. You wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the conversation at hand was too pressing to disrupt. You swallowed, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand before trying again, “There are consequences for Faculty when they date students. It’s considered an abuse of power. Anyone could assume I’m coercing you into this for better grades or a letter of recommendation.”

  
  


“WELL ARE YOU?”

  
  


“Of course not!”

  
  


“THEN THEY SHOULD UNDERSTAND THAT WE ARE BOTH CONSENTING ADULTS WHO ENJOY SPENDING TIME WITH EACH OTHER OUTSIDE OF CLASS HOURS,” his tone was clipped, and it honestly surprised you. He had never gotten short with you, and yet you could clearly see his jaw clenched, and even though he was trying to remain collected, the slight bouncing of his knee indicated to you he was anything but.

You pulled away, running a hand nervously through your hair before you tried again in exasperation,” It doesn’t work like that Papyrus! Not everyone tries to see the good in others like you do. This world is shit and everyone is assumed guilty until proven otherwise. Besides, I don’t even know how old you are or-”

  
  


“19.”

  
  


“.....19? You’re 19 years old?”

  
  


“MY FAVORITE COLOR IS RED, LIKE MY SCARF. MY GOAL IS TO SAVE UP AND BUY A RED CONVERTIBLE SO I CAN FEEL THE WIND BREEZE THROUGH MY HAIR AS I DRIVE DOWN THE HIGHWAY. MY FAVORITE IDOL IS METTATON. I HAVE EXACTLY 26 ACTION FIGURES IN MY ROOM THAT I USE TO PRACTICE BATTLE SCENARIOS. MY FAVORITE FOOD IS THAT OATMEAL WITH THE DINOSAUR EGGS AND I HATE DOGS BECAUSE THEY LIKE TO STEAL MY SPECIAL ATTACK. IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT ME?”

  
  


“.... YOU’RE 19?”

  
  


He abruptly stood, towering over you with a new intensity. You almost fell out of your stool from leaning away, catching yourself in the nick of time with a wide eyed stare. He was frowning now, and the sick and twisted side of you couldn’t help but find the anger slightly attractive. Gulping and tightening your grip on the bar you finally found words, daring to get within his space again.

  
  


“D...Do you know how old I am?”

  
  


“NO. THAT DOESN’T MATTER TO ME LIKE IT SEEMS TO MATTER TO YOU,” there was an edge to his tone you’d never heard before, a heaviness like lead lacing your chest and slowly pulling you down. The air around you grew colder, hair rising along the length of your arm at the sensation. You didn’t realize then that it was his magic, and despite being mildly nervous you were also very intrigued.

  
  


“I’m 28,” you told him in a softer tone, trying to ignore the panic crawling into your throat.

  
  


How had you not realized sooner just how young he was? You didn’t know how monster aging worked, and he looked like any other adult monster (he was an adult you chided yourself, why wouldn’t he?) Sure, he had been more lively, more naive to the world, but he was also incredibly observant, cunning and precise in everything he did. He held a poise and maturity that went way beyond 19 years, so how, you reasoned, could you have even known.

  
  


“That- People will think I’m taking advantage of you,” you pushed onward like a panicked mess, not really thinking of what you were saying, “Up here on the surface people take that the wrong way. The position a relationship would put us in carries more risk than reward. I could get fired and you could be expelled!”

  
  


“THAT DOESN’T MA-”

  
  


“IT MATTERS TO ME!” you bellowed, slamming your fist on the counter with finality. The bar had gone quiet long before your outburst, but now you could hear a pin drop in the tense silence. Your mind finally registered your words, and your stomach dropped in shame. Sometimes you wished you could turn back the clock to fix the things you’d said.

His own hands were in tight fists, eyes glaring right into your soul. With poise, he reached for his wallet, dropping a few G on the counter over the tab. He began to walk towards the entrance, stopping beside you for only a moment.

  
  


“I’ve Come To Expect This From A Lot Of People, Sans Included. But Not Once Did I Ever Think It Would Happen With You. Perhaps I Hoped For Too Much.”

  
  


His boots thumping on the floor resounded loudly in his wake, and it was only when his hand was hovering over the door did a garbled noise escape you.

  
  


“How will you get home?”

  
  


“I’LL WALK,” and like that he was gone, and with him any ounce of happiness you had left. The weight around your chest immediately dissipated, but it was replaced with your own despair. Slowly turning to look at your paid tab on the counter, ignoring the judgmental stares from all the patrons around you, you too reached into your wallet. You didn’t have G, only cash, and you placed a crisp $50 on top of the coins. It wouldn’t make up for the absolute shitshow you’d caused, but you hoped it would make a difference.

“Sorry, you won’t see my ugly mug around again,” you chuckled humorlessly, turning to walk out the same door as the best thing that happened to you. You didn’t make it far before a smoky croon filled the air, causing you to take pause.

  
  


“He’s 100.”

  
  


“Wha?”

  
  


“Papyrus is 100 years old in Human years. We do not age the same,” Grillby explained, and you thought for a second he might actually feel sorry for you.

This time you laughed for real, loud and long and filled with absolute bitterness. The world had a cruel way of giving you things, didn’t it? Offering it up in a box with a pretty bow, only for you to tear it open and toss it away like the spoiled brat you were. You’d always told yourself that you’d never be enough.

You had proved yourself right as you walked out of the bar and never looked back.


	5. Tough Conversations

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” the Dean began, tone even but eyes clearly showing displeasure. You were slumped haphazardly in his chair, eyes vacant and disinterested. Your hair was a mess, and the only thing clean about you was your uniform, which you’d grabbed from storage shortly before meeting with him.

Papyrus hadn’t shown up to class for a month now, and it ate at your very essence knowing that he was out there, probably hating you. You had been irritable, taking it out on your students and pushing them harder than need be. Your passion for cooking had ceased to exist, and in its wake was lackluster creations that even your novice students found to be undesirable. You’d spent your nights at the open end of a bottle, drowning that ache your soul couldn’t shake.

Someone must have brought up concerns, and you couldn’t blame them. You were a hot mess and didn’t really care. Yet you cleared your throat and attempted to smooth back the rats nest on your head, hoping it was enough. It was never enough, but you could lie to yourself a little longer.

  
  


“There have been concerns brought up to me regarding your performance. Would you care to elaborate?”

  
  


“Not really.”

  
  


“Okay... what about your conversation with Brad Connors? His father had mentioned in passing that you’d insulted and threatened him over a misunderstanding.”

  
  


“Misunderstanding my ass,” you snorted, bristling at the injustice of his statement, “That shithead and his goons cornered one of my students and were harassing him.”

  
  


“The skeleton monster you’ve been giving private lessons to the past four months?”

  
  


“His name is Papyrus. At least give him the respect he deserves,” _like I didn’t_ , was the unspoken afterthought, and you had the decency to show regret as your eyes moved to look out the window. The Dean sighed, rubbing his temples in obvious frustration before shuffling a few papers.

  
  


“You were an excellent student when you first started here you know,” he began, looking at you with soft eyes filled with compassion, “Top of your class, all the Honors and numerous letters of recommendation. It’s why I hired you to teach here in the first place.”

You scoffed, biting a hangnail in distaste. You spat it out with little thought and despite your grotesque gesture he continued unphased.

  
  


“You and I both know that temper gets you into trouble more often than not-”

  
  


You barked out a humorless laugh at that. If only he fucking knew.

  
  


“I’m trying to help you here. Something is obviously troubling you. I’d like to sort this out so I’m not forced to make a decision I don’t want to.”

  
  


“None of it matters anyway Denny boy,” you shot back wrly, shifting to stand and popping the bones in your spine. You straightened your shirt, sighing and approaching his desk with little care. You grabbed a pen from your pocket, staring at the paperwork laid out before him.

  
  


“Just tell me where to sign and I’ll pack my things,” you said, wishing you were home with your pal Jack Daniels. He started at your gesture, attempting to search your eyes for answers. You gave him none, growing impatient with his attempts to make you feel things you never wanted to acknowledge in the first place. He cleared his throat, shuffling most of his papers to the side and leaving only one.

  
  


“This is a notice of suspension. You will be asked to remain home for one month while the Board discusses the best course of action. Any explanation to your previous behavior would greatly help us make the right decision,” he wasn’t looking at you now, pushing the sheet in your direction but his voice filled with a plea.

You paused, before quickly signing on the dotted line and turning away. Something in the back of your mind told you this wasn’t right. You ignored it, because when it came down to it, you didn’t deserve to have anything go right in your life. For once you’d let cruel, unforgiving fate decide what was best for you.

  
  


***

You had only stopped in for a new box of pasta. A steaming plate of carbonara had been on your mind all day, and it was enough to get you into the store for the first time in weeks. You walked with your basket in hand down the aisles, stopping once at the correct one and turning down it to find a skeleton.

Panic gripped your chest, because it had been so _long_ since you’d seen the exuberant student you’d grown too fond of the past few months, and you still weren’t ready to face him. Thankfully, it wasn’t _that_ skeleton staring up at the many boxes thoughtfully. It was a different one, clad in a wrinkled blue hoodie and black basketball shorts. Pink, well worn slippers adorned his feet, and it only took a minute for you to click who it might be.

Sans’ brows were furrowed, a phalange scratching at the top of his skull as he perused his many options. He seemed out of his element, and if his facial expression wasn’t enough indication, the list crumbled in his fist certainly was. It was when he reached for the second incorrect box you finally intervened.

  
  


“Put those back. They leave a slimy residue and can’t hold up to a heavy tomato sauce,” you commanded, reaching for an alternative option and tossing it into his basket. You looked at the shelves thoughtfully, compared them to his choices, then picked accordingly.

  
  


“This will pair well with alfredo, with or without meat.

  
  


“These are a little on the firmer side, but he likes that, stock up on two. He’ll want to add more at the last minute.

  
  


“This is best for lasagna because-”

  
  


“do you make a habit of interruptin’ other people’s shopping?” he was glaring daggers at your hand that had once again made its way into his basket. It stopped its descent at his words, curling reflexively.

  
  


“Fuck, yeah, that was dumb huh?” you stepped back out of embarrassment, not sure what came over you. It was abnormal for you to interact with strangers period, let alone help one with their food choices. Maybe it was because he didn’t entirely feel like one.

  
  


“sure, we’ll go with that, you done educating me on pasta or can i get by?” he made a gesture to the path you’d blocked, and with little protest you stepped aside. He brusquely moved past you, not even looking back. You didn’t blame him, what kind of psycho takes over someone’s shopping?

You resigned yourself to finding your preferred brand, only to find your gaze locking on a familiar label.

  
  


“Wait,” you caught up to him before he vanished, and when he turned around he looked ready to deck you. He jumped at the box of star shaped pasta being shoved into his chest. Managing to catch it before it clattered to the floor, he stared blankly at it before slowly meeting your uncertain expression.

  
  


“That’s the one he makes for you, right? He’d be upset if you forgot,” you couldn’t even look at him as you said it, like the absolute coward you were. He probably thought you were the biggest creep now.

He didn’t hesitate to set the box aside and get right into your personal space. Foolishly, you didn’t back down, for some reason feeling like you had to be the dominant one. The longer he stared with those blank sockets, the more you could feel your sins crawling up your back. You hadn’t even told him your name, but it felt as if he’d learned everything about you with that look alone.

  
  


“ **who do you think you are, human?** ” the shift in tone sent a shiver down your spine. He sure could be scary when he wanted to be.

  
  


“Nothing special,” you muttered more to yourself than him, but he’d heard it, because now he was chuckling humorlessly.

  
  


“least you know your place. glad you fucked up when you did with paps,” it was as if his previous expression didn’t exist, replaced with a lazy grin and white eyelights. Although they seemed friendly, you could see the twisted delight that lay underneath at your misfortune.

  
  


“Fuck you,” it came out against your better judgement, and those white pins quickly vanished again. When were you going to learn to think before you spoke?

  
  


“i could rip you to shreds without leavin’ any evidence,” your shirt was bunched up in his fingers, and you could smell a hint of ketchup on his breath. Who knew this was how you’d die, by the hand of Papyrus’ obviously temperamental brother.

  
  


“SANS! I SENT YOU DOWN HERE TEN MINUTES AGO! SURELY MY LIST WAS DETAILED ENOUGH EVEN FOR _YOU_ TO UNDERSTAND?” Papyrus appeared suddenly, like the hero you didn’t deserve, inadvertently sparing you from certain doom.

Sans was back to a cheeky grin and pleasant eyes, the hand previously on the verge of ripping your shirt now tucked neatly into his pocket. Quick little fucker, wasn’t he?

  
  


“just finished up bro. this human happened to pasta by and offered a hand,” he winked, as if he’d said the funniest thing in the world. You failed to find the humor in any of this.

  
  


“I’M CHOOSING TO IGNORE THAT PUN FOR MY OWN SANITY. ANYWAY, THANK YOU FOR ASSISTING MY BROTHER HU-” you didn’t need to turn around to know he’d recognized you, but you did anyway and offered a nervous shrug.

  
  


“It’s no biggie. I know how you can be with your pasta,” you hadn’t meant for it to come out so wistful, so fucking pathetic. You didn’t have the right to feel that way after what you’d said. You didn’t deserve that look of longing you sure you were imaging on his face. You didn’t deserve any of this. Damn, you needed a drink.

  
  


He spoke your name with such tenderness it nearly broke you. You couldn’t be here any longer. Not when you could practically feel the hope radiating from his very being. It was all too much.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it!” you blurted, taking the easy way out which was, well, running away, and only spared the older brother a glance as you turned to make your leave.

  
  


“have fun on your date with jack, kid.”

  
  


You immediately looked in your basket at the bottle of whiskey. You had picked it up without thinking, it becoming second nature with how frequently you got them. What more was there to do except buy a bottle and drink away the pain you refused to acknowledge?

Nothing really, is what you always told yourself when you questioned if you needed it. That was the same answer you were deciding on today, instead of taking the time to acknowledge his bitter remark.

You straightened your shoulders and walked towards the nearest checkout lane to quickly pay. As you made your way through the parking lot, it didn’t occur to you that you’d forgotten to get the supplies for carbonara. That was fine, you’d lost your appetite anyway.


	6. Clarity

You stared at the bottle sitting precariously on your countertop. You’d set it there an hour ago, planning on opening it after you whipped up an easy meal to get you by. Yet by the time you’d plated up your dinner, sat at your table, and managed to choke it all down, the bottle remained untouched. Waiting.

You originally had gone right up to it and started to twist the top. What made you pause was an image of Papyrus in your mind. Well, more like many images in rapid succession.

  
  


Him standing over the industrial stove, brow bones furrowed in concentration as he focused on perfecting a particularly complicated dish.

  
  


His delighted smile when presented with a new recipe, one that you’d spent perhaps a little too long preparing for him.

  
  


His indignant expression when you said the one thing to make him annoyed, but not mad, all so you could watch him go into a dramatic tirade about how,  _ “YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER BY NOW. HONESTLY IT’S LIKE WORKING WITH A CHILD!” _

  
  


But the one image you couldn’t seem to scrub from your conscious was the way he looked at you when he saw you again. You’d had a lot of time to play that scenario over and over, and the more you did the more you pick up on. You hadn’t been wrong about the expression of longing, and initially you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes softened upon realizing you’d helped his brother. He had only looked in the basket for a second, but you were certain he’d seen the star shaped pasta at the top.

When he’d spoken your name, it was more than just a need to hear it fall from his mouth again. He needed to tell you something, and was it wishful thinking on your part that it was to say he missed you? That he wanted to be friends again?

These were the thoughts that overwhelmed you as you sat face to face with your metaphorical crutch. It obviously couldn’t speak, but it still beckoned you, calling for you to take just one little sip...

In one swift motion you uncapped the drink, the rim of the bottle touching your lips when you caught sight of it.

It was inconspicuous really, cast off to the edge of your counter to be forgotten. But in that moment, when you were subconsciously trying to find reasons  _ not _ to drink yourself into an incoherent stupor, you’d zeroed in on it effortlessly. A simple corkscrew, the handle carved into the shape of a bone.

  
  


_ “YOU’RE ALWAYS USING ONE FOR COOKING WINE. IT WAS BY CHANCE THAT I FOUND IT,” _ he’d insisted when presenting it to you, fiddling with his gloves way too much for that to be the entire truth. You’d accepted it anyway, under the excuse that your previous one had recently broken and you hadn’t gotten around to buying another. The way you failed to meet his gaze when saying it, face tinted pink, proved that wasn’t the entire truth either.

Now, it was a buoy to your resolve, pulling you from the dark waters and steadying you with resounding clarity.

The sound of liquor pouring down your sink drain was oddly satisfying, and you watched the dark liquid swirl in circles before disappearing entirely. Bottle now empty, you rinsed it thoroughly, ripping the label off and tossing it in your overflowing trash. Mind clearer than it had been in weeks, you decided you had to do something about it.

It took a lot longer than you’d expected, nearly two hours to be exact, but by the time you’d righted the last throw pillow on your sofa in your now pristine living room, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly accomplished. Who knew how far a little motivation could take you.

Now that your house was clean and you were feeling invigorated, you wondered what more you could do to keep it going. You found the previously forgotten bottle, and inspiration struck.

You had to dig in your desk for the supplies, but in a matter of minutes you had everything needed to begin your project. Grabbing a sharpie, you began to write in large, bold letters (in a font reminding you of someone you dare didn’t mention now), before taping the paper on the front of the bottle.

  
  


“Will a dollar be enough motivation?” you asked yourself, staring at the space you’d left underneath the words ‘Swear Jar’ thoughtfully. You went to write it down, when a sneeze caused you to smudge the letters with your dominant hand.

  
  


“Fuck!” you swore, causing you to freeze in your task. With a loud groan, you crossed the ‘$1’ out, replacing it with a darker ‘$5’. It was with great reluctance you fished your wallet out of your jeans and retrieved the bill from it, placing it in the slot you’d cut into the bottle’s lid. Well, it was a start, one of the many you planned to have.

  
  


You’re driven forward by the hope that he’d be proud.


	7. Fate's Intervention

“Well, heck,” you huffed, staring at the worn brick building before you. You never expected to end up here again, but here you were, a large box of assorted produce in your arms as you approached the one and only Grillby’s. You hadn’t even looked at the name of the place when you took the delivery, only the address, and now that you’re standing in front of it, it felt almost like fate had intervened. Perhaps it was time to face your inner demons today.

Well, maybe not today, you were still on the clock after all.

You had taken the job a week after going sober. You’d emailed the Dean and expressed that it was with your greatest regrets that you no longer wished to continue your employment at the University.

The suspension had opened your eyes to many things, one of them being how you’d lost the passion to teach long ago. It had been the right fit for you after college, an opportunity to expand your cooking knowledge and build your resume.

But now, it was only a reminder of how much you’d limited yourself, settled for the easy way instead of branching out to bigger and better things. So even though it was sad to be ending that chapter in your life, especially on such a tense note, it was a wonderful feeling knowing  _ you _ had made that choice for yourself. No one else could tell you how to live now.

This current job had been a happy accident. You had been wandering around a local farmers market for some good deals, and came across a plucky bird monster selling produce. They were polite, and had a wonderful selection that you happily picked from, and while you perused you’d gotten to talking.

They mentioned how sales were always great at the farmers market, so much so that they were looking to expand and start selling wholesale to some local businesses. You’d suggested a few tips to help them get started, having graduated with a minor in business management in case you planned on opening your own restaurant, and they’d been absolutely delighted by the advice.

They originally asked if you would be their business manager, but you’d refused, making it clear that was no longer the type of career you wanted. It was too much responsibility, not to mention incredibly stressful, and given how you were trying to sober up and focus on yourself for a little awhile, you didn’t think it was in your best interest to have a job at all. You’d expressed this in a roundabout way, and they were incredibly understanding.

It didn’t deter them though, and before you knew it you’d agree to deliver their goods on a part time basis. The starting pay they offered was more than reasonable, and they were perfectly fine with you making your own schedule. It was almost too good to be true, you’d told them this, and they’d laughed and given you some extra apples on the house. Those apples had made an amazing apple pie.

So here you were, working another typical day, making another typical delivery, except now to a place that reminded you of your previously poor life choices. The decision was simple: pack everything up and head back to the shop like nothing ever happened...

  
  


Or... and this was a very big or! You could stop being a big baby and go inside.

  
  


Against your better judgment, you chose the latter, making your way down the cracked sidewalk and slipping through the front door. The warmth hit you all at once, the welcoming smells of grease and smoke quickly following suit. It was just like the first time walking in here with a tall skeleton at your side, eager to try monster food and learn how it was made, and you nearly smiled at the memory.

Except that tall skeleton wasn’t here, and this wasn’t a curious visit to an unknown place. This was the bar you’d caused a scene in, the one where you’d hurt your best friend more than anyone else had. It certainly didn’t hold the same appeal as it used to.

You didn’t know if you should have used the back door or not, but it seemed most of the regulars weren’t bothered by your appearance, so perhaps you’d done the right thing. Hell, they probably didn’t even recognize you, it’d been months since you’d stepped foot in the place, and the cap you wore as part of your uniform did a good job of hiding your distinguishing features.

You approached the bar casually, pulling out your tablet to log the delivery being placed. Now all you needed was a signature, but the fire elemental was nowhere to be seen. Wasn’t he usually manning the front?

  
  


“he stepped out for a quick smoke break. should *hic* be back in a jiffy,” a slurred voice called out, and you were very surprised to find out who it belonged to.

Sans was looking at you with fuzzy eyelights, his grin ever present, but slightly saggy. His sockets creased in a way that could be seen as pleased, but it seemed exaggerated, as if he was a little  _ too _ pleased.

  
  


“c’mere, gotta tell ya a secret,” he beckoned, struggling to pronounce the words clearly. You somehow managed to understand anyway, and with a cautious glance over your shoulder at your delivery, you accepted the invitation. The barstool squeaked a little under your weight, but you were more interested in the way Sans was just  _ beaming _ at you.

  
  


“kay, kay, so here’s the deal,” he continued, slinging an arm over your shoulder easily. His breath reeked of ketchup and whiskey, and it reminded you of the nights where you drank yourself silly, eating greasy food to chase away the hangover. You ignored those thoughts in favor of listening to the skeleton next to you, who was trying to whisper and failing miserably.

  
  


“grillbz ain’t actually havin’ a cigarette” he snickered, as if letting you in on an inside joke, “he don’t need to, all he does is blow smoke!”

  
  


His laugh was booming, and he slapped your back a little too hard as he wheezed at his own pun. You could only offer a strained smile, not even bothering to laugh, because he likely wouldn’t notice anyway. Your saving grace was the kitchen door opening to reveal Grillby, who looked a little surprised to see you.

  
  


“hey! get a drink for my new pal here, put it on my tab,” he snorted, leaning a little too heavily into you and getting drool on your shoulder. Wow was he sloshed.

  
  


“I’m good. Maybe next time?” that was the best you could offer, especially when you really needed to finish the rest of your deliveries. You grabbed your tablet and tapped a few buttons, sliding it over to the elemental politely, “I’m here to drop off your shipment from Pip’s Produce. Sign here please.”

  
  


“Working for Pip now? Did the University become too high brow for you?” he crackled, and you did your best not to flinch at the probing inquiry. You didn’t really know what kind of answer he was expecting, so you figured honesty was the best policy.

  
  


“It just wasn’t something I wanted to do anymore. What’s the point of making food if you no longer enjoy it? It was a chore to teach haughty rich brats who thought they’d be the next Gordon Ramsey after a class or two,” you shrugged, taking the tablet after he signed it and moving to stand.

  
  


“Was that what Papyrus was to you, a chore?”

  
  


Your immediate reaction was to bristle, a frown straining your features. Where did he get off throwing around accusations like that?

  
  


“Shut your dang mouth. You don’t know anything,” you hissed, and it didn’t sound nearly as intimidating because of the non curse, but after dropping nearly a grand into that dumb bottle you’d learned to cut back quite a bit.

  
  


“oh man, pap’s the coolest,” Sans piped in, slumping against the bartop with a quiet gurgle, “he makes the best pasta.”

  
  


You glanced down at him, wondering just how long he’d been at it. Did Papyrus know this was how he was spending his afternoon? Grillby looked resigned to the display before him, grabbing a glass from behind the bar and filling it with a golden liquid.

  
  


“Here’s your drink, Sans.”

  
  


“yer the best grillbz, the light of my life,” he gulped it down in one swallow, slamming the glass on the wood abruptly, “another!”

  
  


“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, lifting a brow at the hilariously pathetic sight.

  
  


“hey, i don’t fuckin’ judge yer life choices. like that stupid hat. you look like the creepy delivery guy in those shitty pornos,” he burped right in your face, before teetering in his barstool from laughter. It swung swiftly to the right, disturbing his balance and sending him to the floor. He lay flat on his back, chuckling as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

  
  


“Okay, we’re getting you home,” you decided, putting the tablet away and grabbing your phone instead. You texted Pip, letting him know you needed to get off early due to a personal emergency, then moved to peel Sans off the floor. This in itself was a difficult task.

  
  


He rolled away anytime you got too close, giggling like a small child playing chase. You tried to be patient, not putting too much effort in the first few tries in fear of causing yet another scene with a skeleton. By the fifth attempt you were ready to strangle him, and you probably would have if Grillby hadn’t intervened.

  
  


“Go with her, or I’ll call Papyrus,” the fire monster threatened, and that sobered Sans up really quick.

  
  


“...fine. i know when m’not welcome,” his expression had turned steely, and with renewed energy he was up and staggering to your side. You briefly considered supporting him with your own weight, even if he was a little bigger than you, but ultimately decided this would only set him off. You settled for hovering close, ready to catch him should he stumble. Hopefully you could actually hold him.

  
  


“Um, I don’t think we can take the delivery truck,” you began, eyeing Grillby hesitantly, “I’ll come back for it once I know he’s fine alone?”

  
  


“I’ll take it back,” the flame replied, opening his hand before you calmly. You stared at it like it might bite you, curious as to where this sudden change of heart came from. Wasn’t he just questioning your intentions fifteen minutes ago?

  
  


“Are you sure? I mean, I’m assuming you know Pip, but the evening rush will be soon and you’ll need all the help you can get here,” you argued, not wanting to impose the man any further. You’d done enough damage the first time around, you didn’t need to add any more reasons for him to dislike you.

  
  


"You will be doing many people a favor by taking him now," he insisted, staring at you with an even expression. It was disconcerting how long he looked deeply into your eyes.

You couldn’t explain it, but something felt off about the way he was speaking to you. There seemed to be a hidden meaning beneath his words, and maybe if you weren’t such a dense idiot, you might actually be able to fully understand it. Unfortunately,  _ because _ you were a dense idiot, you didn’t, and thus could only rely on your gut feeling.

The one that drove you to place the keys in his flaming palm, then turn to your companion calmly.

  
  


“Alright big guy, what’s your address?”

  
  


“i don’t give my address out to people i don’t know. stranger danger and all that,” he snorted, swaying a little too much for your liking. If you didn’t get him out of here soon he’d likely pass out where he stood.

  
  


“Sans, please,” you practically whined. You were so close to calling it quits and heading home. The only thing stopping you from doing just that was the thought of Papyrus’ disappointment. Even three months later, you had  _ that _ look permanently etched into your memory.

  
  


“the fuck? how d’ya know my name?”

  
  


“Papyrus told me.”

  
  


A gasp, followed by,”ya know my bro? why didn’t ya say so? lessgo pal, i’ll show ya to my place.”

And just like that, he had his arm wrapped in yours and was all but dragging you out the door. You could only throw a haphazard wave back at Grillby before you were gone.


	8. Pluto & The Sun

“Dude, we’re literally two steps away from your door.”

  
  


“can’t... go... on...” his face was flat against the floor as he spoke, one arm parallel to his side, and the other limply held up by your desperate tug.

  
  


“Please don’t make me carry you,” you groaned, dragging him only a few inches before needing to take a break. Who knew a bunch of bones could be so heavy.

  
  


“sorry for being such a deadweight.”

  
  


“Oh for fu...fudge’s sake,” you grumbled, giving up and kneeling down to search his pockets, “Where are your keys?”

  
  


“don’t got any.”

  
  


“What do you  _ mean _ you ‘don’t got any’???” your tone was exasperated, utterly fed up with the massive man baby you’d escorted home. He’d been nothing but a pain the entire walk, harassing you with incessant puns and stopping every few minutes when something distracted him.

You’d rather be dealing with a child, and you hated children. That alone should say something.

  
  


“don’t need ‘em.”

  
  


“What do you- You know what, why am I even trying? You probably can’t tell me anyway” you began to look around the apartment door, hoping you’d find a spare key stashed away behind the trimming. When even the top of the door came up with nothing, you could only stare at the hot mess at your feet and wait for answers. He didn’t seem very keen on giving any.

  
  


“Sans, can we just,  _ not _ do this?”

  
  


“mmm, nah.”

  
  


“Alright, what’s it gonna take to get ya to help me unlock this door?”

  
  


“there’s not much ya can offer me human.”

  
  


“Try me.”

  
  


The silence that followed was palpable, bordering on ominous. The Sans laying face down on the floor was a stark contrast to the previously boisterous and sarcastic one. After minutes ticked by you thought he fell asleep, and were about to ask a neighbor if they knew how to get in when he spoke.

  
  


“promise me somethin’.”

  
  


“...Such as?”

  
  


“gotta promise before i tell ya.”

  
  


“Yeah no, that’s not how this works buddy. Out with it,” you demanded, crossing your arms impatiently. He grew quiet again, leaving you in fitful suspense over what he had to say. He was clearly messing with you, right?

  
  


“don’t ever talk to papyrus again after tonight. he’s cried enough tears over you.”

  
  


That was... not at all what you’d been expecting. Normally, you would have told him where to shove it, but his last sentence struck a chord with you.

  
  


Papyrus had... cried over you? Surely he was mistaken. Papyrus didn’t... you’d seen him a little down on his luck but... Papyrus didn’t  _ cry _ . Especially not over something as pointless as you.

  
  


“That’s... I can’t... look,” you rested on the balls of your feet next to his head, trying to find his sockets hidden in the threadbare carpet.

  
  


“I just need to apologize. To let him know it had nothing to do with him. It was all me...  _ I’m _ the one who fucked up,” that was another five bucks in the jar, but at the moment you felt it was worth the small expense, “Once I do that, I’ll... if  _ he _ wants me to... I won’t ever show my face again.”

  
  


“that’s the thing kid,” he immediately replied, finally looking up at you with a blank expression, “he’ll never ask ya to go.”

  
  


You sighed, it heavy with the feelings currently overwhelming you.

  
  


“...Yeah... I know.”

  
  


The sound of a lock startled you, and when you turned you saw the apartment door creaking open, surrounded by a blue glow. It faded in a matter of seconds, and when you went to look at Sans you found him slowly sitting up.

  
  


“Wait, you could have done that the  _ entire _ time?” you asked between gritted teeth. This man was  _ so _ lucky you were friends with this brother.

  
  


“yeah, i was still a little too sloshed to do it right away. the rest helped,” he stood up and lazily dusted off his shorts, “let’s go. that carpet smells like shit, s’makin’ me sick.”

  
  


“Sure that isn’t just your breath?” you snarked, realizing too late that was probably a dumb idea. If it bothered Sans though, he didn’t show it, and half stumbled, half dragged himself into the apartment. You closed the door quietly as you followed behind, easing him onto the couch with surprisingly gentle hands.

  
  


“Alright. Let’s get some food in you. Any requests?” you asked, walking into an unfamiliar kitchen. That didn’t matter though, you could probably find your way around it quickly. If Papyrus organized his own kitchen like he organized his work station at school, then you think you’d be fine.

  
  


“i don’t eat hoity toity garbage,” he protested from his comfortable spot, having shrugged off his hoodie so he was only in shorts and a t-shirt.

  
  


“Oh, I’m very much aware,” you replied, opening the fridge to inspect its contents. There were mostly leftovers of the spaghetti variety, a few containers of assorted side dishes in the mix. None of it would really help with Sans’ inevitable hangover, so it seemed you would have to improvise.

  
  


“Ya like eggs? I know it’s a little late for breakfast but the protein will help,” you asked, grabbing the carton before he could reply. You searched through the upper cupboards carefully, stopping once finding a mixing bowl and a baking pan. You went back to the fridge for a few other ingredients, laying them before you on the counter.

Soon all you could hear was the sound of a knife against the cutting board, the clang of a whisk against the bowl as you whisked your eggs into a yellow pulp. The oven was preheating as you worked, and it wasn’t long before you settled into a peaceful routine.

Chop this, mix that, combine these together. This spice would add a little heat, this one would balance the conflicting flavors, and this one would add a little extra to the aftertaste.

  
  


In your mind, cooking was like a puzzle; a simple equation that when you brought the pieces together it created something that made the effort worth it. It was your safe place; where you could freely open yourself up to try something new. It gave you the chance to make mistakes without worrying about consequence, because the worst that came from a messed up meal was a fuller garbage can and a lesson learned.

It was easy to find comfort in a meal made with love. At the end of the day, food was food, and no matter how it was prepared, it was always enough.

Steam rose from the eggy square you presented to Sans twenty minutes later, the smell rousing him from his restless slumber.

  
  


“One spinach and mushroom quiche made to order,” you chirped, rather proud of your simple meal. It’d been awhile since you’d made food for someone else. Not that you’d ever admit it, but you kinda missed cooking for others... with others too. You secretly hoped he’d like it.

  
  


When he didn’t immediately dig in you frowned, moving to cut a small piece and offer it to him on the fork. He stared at it right in front of his mouth for a long time, and you wondered if he might only be half awake. Before you could move away though, he surprised you by speaking up.

  
  


“i don’t get what he sees in you,” he croaked, shifting his focus from the untouched bite to your face. Even though he was being rude, you couldn’t help but snort in spite of it. You’d told yourself the same thing many times whilst staring down the bottom of a bottle.

  
  


“Me either,” you agreed, dropping the fork onto the plate and leaning against the end of the couch. Your knees pressed against your chest, and you wrapped your arms around them, head leaning back to rest against a cushion.

  
  


“It’s like comparing Pluto to the Sun,” you continued, staring out the window with a wistful smirk. He scoffed, shifting to sit beside you much to your astonishment. After a little more rustling he was settled, focusing on the wall ahead of you. You figured that was his way of showing he was listening.

  
  


“You’re the space guy, you know about all the planets and stuff,” you began, wondering what possessed you to actually explain yourself, “The Sun is bright, hot, so intense you can barely stand it sometimes.”

  
  


“Despite that, people still love it. Whether it’s enjoying a warm summer day out in the park, cooling off in the water at the beach, or even watching a sunset after a long day. People can’t get enough, it’s almost contagious the joy it brings,” you looked in your peripheral vision to see if he was still listening, finding his head slightly tilted in your direction.

  
  


“Pluto is... well...”

  
  


“cold, distant, and easily forgotten?” the blunt question sent you into a laughing fit, cackling turning into almost a wheeze as you tried to recover.

  
  


“See,  _ snrk _ I knew you’d get it. Pap didn’t call you the space expert for nothing,” you moved to stand, only to be intercepted by a bony hand grabbing your wrist and yanking. With a startled yelp you stumbled to the floor, wiggling on your back just in time for Sans to crawl on top of you.

  
  


“you always let your guard down around monsters?” he growled inches from your face. His previously blown out eyelights were pinpricks, and the perma grin he usually sported was parted into a snarl. His fangs gleamed in the low lighting, and you couldn’t help but be fascinated. Who knew the guy had a bite.

  
  


“Only the stupidly drunk ones,” you blurted, like the fool you were. You really needed to work on impulse control. Did people make jars for that too?

  
  


You received a hand around your neck for your troubles, squeezing just enough to leave a bruise.

  
  


“you don’t know when to quit do ya? ya think anything you do is gonna prove to pap that you’re worth somethin’?” he curled his phalanges slightly, the blunt edges digging into your soft skin. That made you whimper, but you tried to keep his gaze through the pain. You may be at a disadvantage, but you wouldn’t let him scare you.

  
  


“I’m not doing anything for him. I’m doing it for myself,” you corrected, managing to free one hand from underneath him to bring to his shoulder, “Though bringing you home? That was for him. You may not care if you hurt him, but I do.”

  
  


“you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  
  


“The hell I don’t! Every time he talked about you it was like looking at a kicked puppy!” ooh you were pissed now. He didn’t get to sit in denial while ripping apart your past transgressions. If he wanted to crucify you, then he was coming along for the ride.

  
  


“shut your filthy mouth human. i could do whatever i want to you, and there’d be nothin’ you could do about it.”

  
  


You only stared at him with an unreadable expression, searching his sockets for... something. Maybe if there was any truth to his words? You decided he was slightly bluffing.

  
  


“Well, you wouldn’t be the first.”

  
  


The click of the lock brought both of your attention to the door, which swung open with sudden force to reveal none other than Papyrus. He was carrying a messenger bag over his shoulder, looking rather peeved. When his sockets landed on you however, it morphed into disbelief, quickly followed by concern.

  
  


“...Sans? What’re You Doing?”

  
  


You and Sans turned to each other simultaneously with wide eyes.

  
  


Then, with no small amount of exertion, he proceeded to vomit all over you.


	9. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised there is some heavier things brought up in this chapter. Trigger warnings have been placed at the beginning. For those who are not comfortable, I will be placing a brief summary at the end of the chapter. Enjoy and happy reading!

**TW: Implication of self harm. Depressive thoughts. Suicidal Ideation. Minor anxiety attack.**

A hot shower was all it took to get the vomit off of you. Your uniform, however, was done for. Not even dry cleaning could get rid of the dark blue stain splattered across the shoulders of your shirt. You were mostly upset about the cap if you were honest, it had received the brunt of the assault.

You had been surprised by many things the moment your face had been coated in the glowing blue goo. The first being that it _tingled_ , like someone had thrown pop rocks into a soda bottle then poured it all over you. It tickled at your skin as it oozed down your cheeks, your shirt soaking it up like a sponge.

The other thing that surprised you was that it smelled... almost pleasant? Like a crisp, bright winter day. Did all monster magic smell like this, or was it unique to the individual?

However, the thing that surprised you most of all was...

  
  


“Why does it taste like a blue jolly rancher?” you asked Papyrus when you finally found him, sitting with his head in his hands on the ratty sofa.

  
  


“Blue...OH STARS CHILI, DID YOU REALLY TASTE TEST MY BROTHER’S VOMIT?” he looked mortified, which in your opinion was a more welcome sight than him sullenly staring at the floor.

  
  


“Not on purpose,” you defended, because who the heck tasted someone’s puke for the fun of it? The towel that you used to dry your hair was now draped across your shoulders, and you stood in the now pristine living room thoughtfully. Hadn’t you told Papyrus that you would clean up the mess?

  
  


“I HAD NOTHING ELSE TO DO. LEAVING IT WOULD BE MORE STRESSFUL THAN CLEANING IT,” he explained, having accurately guessed your thoughts. You sighed in defeat, knowing this much was true. He really didn’t like messes.

  
  


“Well, at least I can put away-” you glanced in the kitchen to find the quiche gone, the pans and cooking utensils you used washed and set to dry in the dish rack.

  
  


“AS I SAID, I HAD NOTHING ELSE TO DO.”

  
  


“...I was gone for ten minutes.”

  
  


“WHICH GAVE ME PLENTY OF TIME TO TIDY UP,” he abruptly stood, approaching you with a controlled swiftness. It was strange to be around him again, you’d almost forgotten how much taller he was. The size difference was further showcased when he had to bend slightly to examine your face, a gloved hand reaching to lift your chin. You almost rejected it, uncertain if you could go back to such casual touches after months of no contact.

His keen observation skills immediately noticed, and he paused mid motion. He didn’t speak, but his eyes held a question. You searched the dark pockets for what felt like eons, before offering a small nod.

It was weird to feel the familiar cotton against your cheek. It wasn’t unpleasant, but you couldn’t help but feel _wrong_ for having missed it. As if you deserved to be so close to him after what transpired between you.

He didn’t hesitate to lift your chin, eyelights roaming the expanse of your neck to study the bruises his brother had left behind. He tsked, pulling away as quickly as he came, before walking past you to the kitchen. You could only stare dumbly at his back as he reached into the cupboards for what he needed.

  
  


“Where is he?” you asked, hoping to fill the uncomfortable silence with something.

  
  


“ASLEEP. HE WILL BE FINE IN A FEW HOURS. IT WASN’T AS BAD THIS TIME,” he had answered so casually, but the tightness in his shoulders betrayed the underlying concern.

  
  


“Mm,” you nodded, daring to enter the kitchen while he worked. Two mugs sat on the counter, and he was currently filling a kettle in the sink. A box of tea was close by, opened and waiting for the bags to be retrieved. Your nose crinkled in distaste, you’d never been a fan of the stuff.

  
  


“IT WILL HEAL THE BRUISES,” he spoke without looking at you, causing you to briefly start. What was with all of the mind reading today?

  
  


“Hng,” you supplied, skirting the wall of the kitchen so he could put the kettle on to boil. Watching him move so casually in this room, this environment, it stirred up old memories in your mind. Had it only been four months since you’d last given him a private lesson? It felt like years to you.

  
  


Papyrus had gotten closer without your noticing, and you nearly flinched when his hand was back on your chin. Tipping your head up once more, he leaned in even closer to inspect more thoroughly. His hot breath sent goosebumps along your neck, causing an involuntary shiver. How could he do that without lungs??

You swallowed, praying to whatever deities existed that he didn’t notice. (Your prayers weren’t answered, he had definitely noticed. He tried not to linger too long in fear you might catch him staring.)

  
  


“IT SEEMS HE HAD ILL INTENT,” he spoke in a flat tone, and you had to suppress another shudder at the feeling of his voice vibrating so close to your sensitive skin.

  
  


“He wouldn’t have done anything,” you assured, remembering just how easily he had a hold of your throat. Sure, he had been pissed, but even when his fingers dug into the sides of your neck, you could sense his restraint.

He’d told you many months ago he could rip you to shreds and leave no evidence. You hadn’t entirely believed him then, but with him looming over you, fangs bared and the scent of petrichor in the air, even as drunk as he was you could feel the overwhelming power he held. You assumed that when sober, ripping you limb to limb would have been child’s play.

Yet you made out with only a few bruises and sick in your hair, and that only solidified in your mind just how much he’d held back. If he had really wanted to hurt you, he could, and would, have done a whole lot worse.

  
  


“I THINK YOU GIVE HIM TOO MUCH CREDIT,” Papyrus argued, stepping away when the whistle of the kettle called to him.

  
  


_I think you don’t give him enough_ , is what you wanted to say, but decided at the last second to bite your tongue. It wasn’t your business to get into anyway.

  
  


A steaming mug was held out to you, and after only brief hesitance you accepted it. The steam carried the scent of brine and seaweed, causing your stomach to immediately twist in disgust. Just what kind of tea was this?

  
  


“SEATEA,” Papyrus answered your unspoken question, encouraging you to sit while your beverage cooled. You acquiesced, making your way back to the couch and sitting as far from him as possible. He knew your intention, but made no comment, settling on the opposite end and taking a small sip of his tea.

You took that as your cue to try it, and as soon as the salty liquid reached your tongue you nearly spat it out. You somehow swallowed it, having to beat your chest as you nearly hacked out a lung. Tears sprang to your eyes, trying to chase away the salt that somehow ended up in them. What on Earth was Papyrus trying to do, murder you?

  
  


“FU-udge, that’s gross” you grimaced down at the murky liquid with no small amount of disdain.

  
  


“Language-...?” he’d been quick to admonish the curse he expected to be your reaction, only to do a double take. You refused to meet the gaze currently boring into the side of your head, but it wasn’t like you could ignore him. So, to improvise in the worst possible way, you hastily chugged your scalding hot drink.

Magic was a wonderful thing at the best and worst of times. The tea was still way too hot for consumption; it literally burned your throat with each swallow. Under normal circumstances, you would have been forced to stop and likely needed medical assistance. However, given the healing properties of the drink, it would heal said burns as quickly as it caused them.

Needless to say you were having a mild mind fuck by the time you swallowed the last drop.

Papyrus seemed equally shocked by your impulsiveness, face a mixture of confused and incredibly concerned. Not that you would know, because you still refused to look at him.

  
  


“I- THAT IS NOT HOW TEA IS NORMALLY CONSUMED.”

  
  


“I wouldn’t have finished it if I took my time,” you wheezed out the half lie, still trying to comprehend how your throat wasn’t utterly raw from your reckless decision. You took a moment to feel your neck, searching out the once tender spots where Sans had done damage. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, you moved to a mirror in the hall to assess.

It was as if it’d never happened. Your skin was free of any blemish, let alone prominent bruising, and you silently marveled at the beauty of magic. It really was an amazing thing.

  
  


“Uh, so it’s getting pretty late,” you began, making your way back to the waiting Papyrus, “I should probably head out now or I’ll miss the last bus.”

  
  


“...RIGHT. I CERTAINLY WOULDN’T... WANT TO KEEP YOU,” he didn’t look at you as he spoke, apparently fascinated with a frayed throw pillow. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but the flighty side of you that was eager to get away encouraged you not to dwell on it.

  
  


“Yeah. So... see ya? I guess?” God you were so awkward. You needed to leave before he realized just how big of a mess you still were. It’d been months, and you’d gotten a lot better, but it still wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough to make it up to him. _You_ would never be-

The sound of your name startled you from the spiraling thoughts, and instinctively you turned to him. He was still looking at the throw pillow, holding it firmly in his gloved hands. You could see the cogs turning in that brilliant mind of his.

Funny how after so much time had passed, it was the little things that still stuck with you. You didn’t realize just how often you’d seen that look in your daydreams until it was presented to you in that moment.

  
  


“Why Didn’t You Stop Him?” he finally asked, brows connecting in concentration. He still wouldn’t look at you.

  
  


“Pft... c’mon Paps. Isn’t that... kinda obvious?” you sputtered. What else could you say to a question like that?

  
  


“You’re A Third Degree Black Belt In Taekwondo. I’ve Seen You Easily Disarm And Restrain People Double Your Size.”

  
  


“That guy needed to watch his mouth,” you argued, as if that was the real reason he’d brought up that snippet of information.

  
  


“Sans Was Too Inebriated To Do More Than Hold You In Place With His Magic. You Could Have Easily Taken Him By Surprise And Made Your Escape,” the pillow shook in his hands, a minor tremble, but enough for you to notice. Seeing your friend in any state other than calm and collected was incredibly unnerving, you almost had to look away.

  
  


“...Intent is a powerful thing Pap. You told me that. I didn’t... I _couldn’t_ -”

  
  


“You Are Correct. However Your Hand Was On His Shoulder When I Walked In. There Was No Sign Of Injury. There Was No Ill Intent On Him,” you could see his mind running a million miles a minute, and now that he was on the train of thought it wouldn’t stop, “Your Approach May Be Brash And Aggressive, But You Wouldn’t Hurt Him. Even If He Angered You. But That Doesn’t Mean You Wouldn’t Try To Escape. So Tell Me-”

  
  


He cleared the space between you in an instant, standing over you and staring right into your soul. You’d only seen this side of Papyrus once, and even then you’d been too blinded by emotion to understand the severity of it. Now however, it was easy to see just how intimidating he could be when it suited him. Even without touching, you could feel the power he possessed in his bones. It seems the brothers were more alike than you thought.

  
  


“I...” you weren’t expecting your voice to quiver, but you couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you. Yes, he wanted answers, but you could clearly see in those sockets just how _worried_ he was. Had it really been that scary for him to find you and Sans in that position?

Which, given the new perspective, you suddenly wondered _why_ you hadn’t stopped him.

It wouldn’t have taken much, especially since he assumed he had the upper hand. He had in that moment, but it wouldn’t have been hard to swipe your leg over his neck and pin him down with your thigh. You could have used his surprise to your advantage and left.

  
  


Yet... you’d stayed... you’d _let_ him overpower you. Almost as if-

  
  


“Oh...” your voice warbled softly, pupils shrinking in horrible realization. You thought you’d gotten past this. Those years of therapy had to have done something to help keep _those_ desires away. Why now, of all times did they decide to resurface?

Then you looked up at him and studied the beautiful face that haunted your dreams in the most wonderful way. You remembered just how hurt and disappointed he’d looked when you’d shouted at him that day in Grillby’s bar. You remembered feeling like you’d ruined everything, that-

  
  


_“don’t ever talk to papyrus again after tonight. he’s cried enough tears over you.”_

  
  


You stumbled backwards, hitting the door with a soft thud as your hands tugged at the collar of your shirt.

  
  


_“ya think anything you do is gonna prove to pap that you’re worth somethin’?”_

  
  


“No...no no no,” you whimpered. Everything was too tight, you couldn’t breathe, your clothes were constricting you. The walls were closing in, everything was too close and the thoughts, the _thoughts_ they wouldn’t stop telling you over and over in your mind-

  
  


_You deserved this. You deserved to die._

  
  
  


You yelped when Papyrus grabbed your shoulders, and he relented at once. You didn’t let him get far, clutching his wrists and holding them like a lifeline. You released a shuddering breath, slowly coming down from the hysteria.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You didn’t remember sliding to the floor. You didn’t remember muttering under your breath ‘I deserved it I deserved it’ over and over like some twisted prayer. (Papyrus did, and it frankly horrified him.) You didn’t see him kneel down right in front of you, floundering at how he was supposed to fix this catastrophe he’d inadvertently caused.

  
  


He didn’t need to fix anything, _you_ were the one at fault. _You_ were the cause of _all of this_.

  
  


“I-I’m sorry, I’m so fucking so-orry Papyrus,” you sobbed, rushing him with sudden force to throw your arms around him. Swear jar be damned, you were going to let it all out.

  
  


“I fucked u-up. I fucked up so ro-royally and I know that- there’s no way I could _ever_ -” he shushed you, his skull pressing to your cheek as he returned your embrace tenfold.

  
  


There was something about the way your body fit so perfectly against his, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. The smell of chalk and tomato sauce left a dizzying effect on your soul as you pressed your face against his chest. The way he rubbed circles delicately between your shoulder blades was soothing, a promise that he’d stay there as long as you needed.

  
  


“No... _I’m_ Sorry...” he spoke into your shoulder, seeming to enjoy the prolonged contact just as much as you were.

  
  


“For what?” you found yourself asking between sobs. As far as you were concerned he didn’t need to apologize for anything.

  
  


“For Many Things,” was his cryptic reply, and he pulled away to explain properly, “I Acted Out Of Turn Just As Much As You Did That Day. I Was Letting My Feelings Control My Actions. You Had Every Right To Be Concerned About Us Pursuing Something While Maintaining A Professional Relationship. It Was Unfair Of Me To Assume You’d Put Us Before Your Job; Your Livelihood.”

  
  


…

  
  


He was right. He _had_ been acting selfishly that day.

  
  


At the time, part of you had even _thought_ that. You’d told yourself while driving home that he was acting like a brat who wasn’t used to being told no, just like all the other kids you taught.

  
  


But then...

  
  


That little voice... the one that _thrived_ on self loathing, piped up and pointed out all of the little things you could have done differently. And well, they had stuck with you a lot longer than his bratty attitude. Soon you had convinced yourself it was _entirely_ your fault, that you had hurt him with your own selfishness.

  
  


You sniffed, wiping your eyes before asking, “How long have you been sitting on that for?”

  
  


“...Longer Than Necessary.”

  
  


“...Were you _ever_ going to tell me? Or were you gonna lead me to believe I’d made you hate me forever?” you hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but dammit, now that he admitted he’d been just as much of an ass as you had, you were pissed.

  
  


“Hate you? CHILI! I COULD NEVER HATE YOU! HOW COULD I HATE SOMEONE I L-” his voice cut off, leaving you to stare at him curiously. You grew impatient with how he started looking anywhere but at you, wringing his hands together like he used to early on in your friendship. When he was worried you would reject something he said.

  
  


“Okay... so when?” you tried, hoping it was enough of a diversion for him to continue. Now that you two were talking again, you very much wanted answers.

  
  


“I TRIED FINDING YOU AFTER CLASS, BUT THERE WAS SOMEONE ELSE TEACHING THAT DAY. I ASSUMED YOU WERE JUST SICK, BUT NEXT WEEK IT WAS THE SAME TEACHER, AND NO ONE WOULD TELL ME WHERE YOU WENT,” he looked at you pointedly, and suddenly you were sweating.

  
  


“Uhhhh, okay but what about when I bumped into Sans at the store?” that wasn’t an abrupt question in any way. Nope. Perfectly smooth.

  
  


“I! YOU LEFT TOO QUICKLY FOR ME TO GET A CHANCE TO!”

  
  


“...Fine... We both... reacted poorly,” you settled on, staring at him evenly, “And we’ve... apologized. So...?”

  
  


…

  
  


......

  
  


“WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME LIKE THAT?”

  
  


“I-I thought you’d know what we’re supposed to do next?”

  
  


“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘ _DO NEXT_ ’?”

  
  


“Uh, like, what do we...” you gestured vaguely, and he stared at you as if you’d suddenly grown two heads.

  
  


“...I’M STILL NOT FOLLOWING.”

  
  


“tch...” you were rubbing your temples aggressively, hoping to keep the oncoming headache away if you pressed hard enough. Sometimes, you both were perfectly in sync, understanding every move and thought crossing each other’s mind.

  
  


Other times, you were bumbling idiots trying how to word.

  
  


“I just... are we okay?” you looked up at him with uncertainty in your eyes. You were horrified by what his answer might be, but you had to know.

When he looked back at you with that warm expression, time stood still. He slowly leaned over and cupped your face with tenderness and affection, smiling so sweetly that your teeth hurt. A gloved thumb stroked the side of your face, ghosting your lower lip for just a second before resting on your cheek.

When your name left his mouth, it was like a song falling from the parted heavens, and he studied you for a second longer before saying “We Were Always Okay.”

His teeth pressed to your cheek, a whisper of a kiss, chaste in every sense of the word. Staring blankly at the wall behind him even as he pulled away, a strange, but very strong feeling wormed its way into your thoughts.

  
  


Oh. Oh no...

  
  


He chuckled, standing to his full height and extended a hand to you, like he was offering the world on a silver platter. You blindly took it, letting him lead you back to the beat up sofa as your mind whirred into overdrive. He sat and patted the cushion next to him in invitation. On autopilot you accepted it, flopping down unceremoniously and accidentally leaning into him from the force.

He didn’t hesitate to rest an arm over your shoulders, and turned the TV on to pick something to watch. You didn’t even know what he’d settled on as he made himself comfortable against the pillows, pulling you a little closer in the process. Your mind was too focused on that feeling, the one that rang in your head over and over like a church bell on Sunday.

Now that it was there, you couldn’t stop thinking about it, trying to comprehend what it meant. You looked at him absently, and when he met your gaze he smiled the happiest smile you’d ever seen on him. Your heart, no, your _soul_ thumped loudly at the sight, solidifying that feeling into reality.

  
  


Somehow... some way...

  
  


You had fallen in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chili and Papyrus finally talk and apologize to each other. After they confirm they're still friends and Papyrus invites her to hang out, Chili realizes she's in love with him.


	10. Quiche

You woke up with a pillow under your head and a well worn blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Sunlight filtered through the parted curtains, casting a gentle glow on your cheeks. A fresh set of clothes sat neatly on the coffee table.

You didn’t get up right away, because despite it’s beat up exterior, the sofa was rather comfortable. It was perfectly warm in your little cocoon, and you would have been content to stay there forever if you could. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

A soft yawn escaped you, and your limbs broke free from the blanket prison to leisurely stretch. Extending your arm to its full length made your shoulder pop, causing a soft sigh to follow. It was only when all of the cricks and stiffness had left your body did you finally open your eyes...

  
  


To find Sans standing over you with a disgusted look on his face.

  
  


“Jiminy Christmas!” you spluttered, nearly falling off the sofa in your panic. You caught yourself in the nick of time, scrabbling to the corner of it to regain your composure. Sans didn’t move from his spot, following you with those intense eyelights. What was _his_ deal?

  
  


“Uh, can I help you?” you questioned. Surely he had a reason for watching you sleep like some sort of weirdo.

  
  


He didn’t answer right away, taking all of you in before replying with a question of his own.

  
  


“what happened to your shirt?”

  
  


You looked down at your dishevelled uniform, then back at him.

  
  


“Your candy flavored vomit.”

  
  


He didn’t seem to know what to say to that. You thought you actually caught him by surprise.

  
  


“...my what?”

  
  


“Your vomit. The vomit you projected all over me. It tastes like blue jolly ranchers.”

  
  


“...you tasted my puke?”

  
  


“Not on purpose!” you hissed. Jeez, what was with skeletons assuming you ate other people’s throw up for shits and giggles?

  
  


“...ok.”

  
  


He kept staring at you, as if wondering why you were on his couch wrapped up in a blanket and covered in his dry vomit. It was probably better that he didn’t know, honestly.

  
  


You decided now was the right time to change the subject, so you pointed to the clothes on the table.

  
  


“That for me?”

  
  


He glanced at them, then back at you.

  
  


“fuck if i know.”

  
  


...Great.

  
  


“Great,” you deadpanned, then began to unbutton your shirt.

  
  


...It wasn’t until you unfastened the third button that Sans finally reacted, slippered feet shuffling uncomfortably.

  
  


“w-what’re you doing?”

  
  


“Well, since it seems the only thing you can do right now is glower at me like I’ve eaten your firstborn child, I figured I may as well give you a show,” you stated simply, continuing to undress like it was the most normal thing in the world. The blue glow coming from the corner of your eye was mildly satisfying.

  
  


“d-do you humans have _any_ shame?” he stammered, still trying to hold his ground. The irony of that question wasn’t lost on you.

  
  


“Nope,” you accentuated the ‘p’, getting the final buttons undone and shirking the fabric from your shoulders. Sans’ reaction was akin to a child walking in on their parents doing the deed.

  
  


You weren’t bothered, you didn’t find your simple sports bra to be terribly revealing, and couldn’t care less if he saw your stomach. You leaned forward and grabbed the supplied t-shirt, slipping it over your head and straightening it around your torso. It was a little too big for you, but you couldn’t deny how comfortable it was. Damn, you’d have to ask Papyrus where he got it.

It was when you stood up to strip out of your pants Sans finally caved, vanishing in an instant and leaving the smell of melting snow in his wake. A victorious smirk tugged at your lips as you began to put on the shorts.

Just as they reached your thighs, Papyrus walked in, seeming to want to speak to you. You looked up and smiled in greeting, finishing with your task of dressing before straightening up to properly address him.

Except he wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t anywhere near it seemed. You glanced around the room, momentarily second guessing yourself. Had you just imagined him walking from the hallway?

Deciding it wasn’t worth anymore thought, you set your soiled clothes next to your bag, then went into the kitchen in search of some breakfast.

As if the sound of the fridge opening had summoned him, Papyrus was back and standing in the kitchen entrance with orange cheekbones. You peeked over the door and grunted a greeting, then grabbed the leftover quiche and unwrapped the cellophane.

  
  


“Sup Skeletor, thanks for the clothes. I’ll be sure to get them washed soon as I get home.” The quiche was snatched away before it reached the counter, which gave you cause to face him and lift a single brow.

  
  


“WHILE I’M SURE YOUR QUICHE IS WONDERFUL DEAR CHILI, I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE NICE FOR US TO MAKE SOMETHING TOGETHER.” The grin on his skull was charming, and the thought of cooking with him again was even more so. The flush came unbidden across your cheeks, and no matter how much you tried it wouldn’t go away.

  
  


“U-Uh, okay, sure. What did you have in mind?” Hopefully it was something complicated, so you didn’t have to think about how much your newly discovered feelings were affecting you. A simple invitation to prepare breakfast together shouldn’t make you flustered!

  
  


“I WAS THINKING OF FLAT PANCAKES!” He seemed pleased with your agreement, putting away the leftovers and grabbing the needed supplies. It was when he started placing them on the counter you understood what he was suggesting.

  
  


“Oh! You mean crepes?”

  
  


“YES. THE FLAT PANCAKES.”

  
  


“I- Okay. Savory or sweet?” You stepped in to take over the batter, uncertain if he’d mastered the ratio since last showing him. That lesson had been one of the first in the curriculum, and it hadn’t been as thorough as you’d liked. Crepes were too complex to complete in one session.

  
  


He didn’t protest, instead setting down a cutting board and beginning to cut a slab of ham steak into neat cubes. Next came a block of provolone, shredded until there was nothing left but a towering pile of strings. He quickly set them aside to start the stove, and just like that you were cooking amicably in silence.

It was as you continued to meander around his kitchen like it was your own you realized just how in sync you two were. Being able to simultaneously focus on your own tasks while observing each other, you could easily predict what came next and work accordingly.

When Papyrus started the stove, you wasted no time switching places with him with a ladle in hand. After pouring the first glob of batter onto the pan you grabbed the eggs, sliding them over to your companion so he could make the hollandaise. He quietly passed you a spatula, not once looking away from the bowl he was cracking the yolks into.

  
  


It was... nice... having this with him again. To be doing something you loved with someone you... well.

  
  


You glanced at him only for a moment, but it was long enough for him to notice and smile sweetly at you. You smiled back absently, then proceeded to focus _very_ hard on watching the food. This wasn’t the time to be thinking those kinds of thoughts, not when you needed to keep an eye on the crepes.

The sudden weight of a hand just above your waist had been unexpected. It was innocent enough, it seemed he was only ensuring you kept still while he moved around you, but something about it felt off.

Papyrus had touched you before, it had become pretty much normal up until your falling out with him. It had started with small brushes of the hand, then moved on to shoulder pats and gentle shoves when you said something that irritated him. Then along came the occasional hug and stroking of your hair, and you hadn’t thought anything of it, the skeleton was a rather tactile monster really, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t trusted him.

  
  


But _that_ gesture had... well... you didn’t want to think about it, because then it might give you hope.

  
  


The place where his hand had lingered tingled, as if willing the memory of it back, and against your better judgement you glanced in his direction. He was looking down at the bowl of hollandaise, a content expression lining his bones. Upon closer inspection, you noticed how smooth they looked in the light. Which was strange, because when you touched them they had a porous quality to them.

You were tempted to reach out to touch him, as if to prove yourself right. A twitch of your hand was as far as you got, but it didn’t stop you from studying his features curiously. Had he always looked like this when you cooked with him? Like there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be?

  
  


“IS THERE SOMETHING ON MY FACE?”

  
  


Oh shit, you’d gotten caught staring. It was hard to give an answer when he was just standing there, looking quite handsome with that amused grin on his teeth. Quick! Think of an excuse!

  
  


“Uh, you’ve got an eyelash on your cheek. Here,” you reached up and brushed a finger along the sharp bone to brush it away. It lingered there a little longer than necessary, taking in every bump and groove of the bone. You did your best to ignore the warmth filling your chest at the intimacy of your action, and with great reluctance pulled away.

  
  


“Got it. All set,” you grinned, and went to ladle another dollop of batter on the pan.

  
  


“CHILI...”

  
  


“Hm?” you paused to look up at him innocently, only to find his face much closer than before. That amused grin had turned into a suspiciously smug one, and the way he was studying you made your heart flutter.

  
  


“Skeletons Don’t Have Eyelashes,” he all but whispered, and was it just your imagination or did it seem like he was about to kiss you?

  
  


...Was it bad that you really wanted him to?

  
  


“smells good bro, whatcha cookin?” like the ultimate mood killer he was, Sans appeared at the kitchen entrance before Papyrus could make his move. The shuffling of his slippers gave you both enough warning to quickly pull away, but you couldn’t hide your flustered expressions. Sans immediately picked up on it, watching both of you carefully.

  
  


“...gross,” he grumbled, but when he made eye contact with you, he blushed bright blue and skittered away like a scared pup. You huffed and rolled your eyes. What a baby.

You and Papyrus looked at each other simultaneously, then promptly burst into laughter. Cooking breakfast continued without a hitch, and soon you were setting down two steaming plates of ham and cheese crepes. All that was needed was a drizzle of hollandaise, and you both sat down to enjoy your meal.

  
  


“Mmm, looks good,” you rubbed your hands together eagerly, only to pause at the sight of a third plate set across from you. On it was a piece of the leftover quiche.

  
  


“Uh, what’s that for?”

  
  


“YOU’LL SEE,” was the answer you received. Well that didn’t sound foreboding or anything.

  
  


You didn’t get much time to think about it, because the other skeleton had popped into the chair across from you with an excited expression. It immediately fell when he realized what he’d been given for breakfast.

  
  


“really? why am i gettin’ leftovers?”

  
  


“BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T EAT IT LAST NIGHT,” the way Papyrus said it was like a mother scolding her child, and even though it was funny to see Sans taken down a peg, you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

  
  


“i can eat it later-”

  
  


“YOU WILL EAT IT NOW.”

  
  


Oh. You hadn’t heard Papyrus talk like _that_ before.

It held no room for argument, and there was an edge to it that made it clear he would get his way no matter what. It was also _incredibly_ hot.

  
  


You studied your plate intensely, deliberately ignoring the blush likely covering your face. Now was not the time to be thinking about Papyrus using that voice on you in a different setting. Nope. Down boy.

  
  


Sans was shocked, trying to understand where the change in attitude was coming from. The shock soon morphed into anger, and he growled his protest, “i don’t need to do shit.”

  
  


Papyrus was out of his chair instantly, and an abrupt heaviness filled the room. The scent of evergreen permated around you, and you quickly grabbed your chest at the sensation of intense pressure. When you looked at Papyrus again his expression was hard.

  
  


“SHE TOOK TIME OUT OF HER DAY TO COOK FOR YOU, TO TAKE CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU WERE UNABLE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS SHOW YOUR APPRECIATION BY EATING IT,” he continued, his hands uncharastically clenched into fists.

This was about more than just the quiche, wasn’t it? Maybe you should just go home. Let them duke it out without getting in the middle. You scooted your chair away from the table, about to tell Papyrus as such when-

  
  


“STAY.”

  
  


Well, then. Guess you were staying put. Why were you slightly aroused by that?

  
  


They continued their staring contest for almost two minutes, time you spent fidgeting uncomfortably in your seat. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and that heaviness in your chest wouldn’t go away. The smell of pine was starting to become suffocating, but you tried your best to power through it. Oh my God, someone _please_ just _do_ something!

  
  


“Papyrus...”

  
  


“fine! ya want me to eat it? i’ll fuckin’ eat it!” Sans relented, then aggressively stabbed the square of egg and shoved a massive bite into his mouth. He stuffed another one in before he finished the first, all the while glaring daggers at his brother.

Papyrus watched intently as Sans quickly devoured the entire piece in large, sloppy bites, making a mess of the table and himself in the process. It was almost too gross to watch, and it took all of your willpower not to look away. Was he even tasting it or just trying to suck it down?

The fork clattered loudly against the empty plate, making the silence in its wake feel deafening. No one moved, the only sign that time was passing was the soft sway of the curtains when a stray breeze blew in. Sans eventually stared down at his plate like it had offended him.

  
  


“dammit...”

  
  


What? Did he eat too fast? Was he gonna throw up again? You didn’t want to be anywhere near him if he did.

  
  


“... it tastes good.”

  
  


“Well don’t sound so fucking disappointed,” you blurted, letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Like a bubble bursting, the pressure in the air released, and the pine scent faded into nothing. You felt exponentially lighter now, and you rubbed your temples in an attempt to keep away the pain. Thank God, you were getting a headache from that smell.

  
  


“CHILI IS QUITE THE COOK ISN’T SHE?” Papyrus chirped, as if five minutes ago he hadn’t brow beat his brother into eating it, then sat down to finally enjoy his own meal. You gaped, watching as he took his first bite then hum in delight, acting like everything was normal again. Sans was still giving his plate the stink eye.

  
  


“I... I just,” you threw up your hands and stood, looking between the brothers before asking Sans, “Do you want some crepes? You deserve it after being held hostage like that.”

  
  


He seemed extremely surprised by the offer, “uh, sure?”

  
  


“Great. Be right back,” you walked into the kitchen and made him a plate, internally screaming the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know in the comments any questions you may have about these two, I'll happily answer them!


	11. Confession??

The rest of the meal went relatively smooth... sort of.

No one said anything after the weird mini battle Sans and Papyrus had, leaving you to awkwardly pick at your plate while trying to gather your thoughts.

You didn’t know much about the brothers’ relationship, but you were certain they rarely, if ever, fought. So to have it happen right in front of you was unsettling. It also surfaced feelings of guilt, as you wondered if you had been the cause of it.

You had never seen Papyrus angry. Even that day at Grillby’s he had been more upset... disappointed? This, however, was a whole other beast.

You remembered the way his hands had clenched at his sides, as if holding back rage. The pressure that had weighed you down out of nowhere, had that been his magic? Although you’d never seen him use it, you found yourself thinking that it felt familiar. If that was the case, was that the full extent of it, or had he been holding back? What exactly was he capable of?

You glanced up to find Sans had cleared his plate again, but instead of looking pissed about it, he was looking right at you. You blinked, raising a brow suspiciously. What was he up to now?

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move from his spot, and the longer you stared at each other the sooner you realized he seemed to want something. His browbones were scrunched together innocently, his sockets wider than usual and... was he trying to quiver his teeth?- Wait.

  
  


Was... was he giving you puppy dog eyes?

  
  


Why the fuck would Sans be giving you- Oh. His eyelights had moved just a fraction, but it was enough for you to see them focus momentarily on your half eaten crepes. They snapped back up just as Papyrus looked up from his plate, and Sans managed to contort his expression into something neutral whilst his brother was looking. Only when Papyrus had returned to his meal did the Puppy Dog Eyes return in full force, causing you to inwardly groan. What the everloving fuck.

  
  


“I’ll be back Paps,” you said, scooting away from the table and returning to the kitchen. Upon walking in you saw there were two crepes left, and enough fixings to make one more plate for whomever wanted it. You were about to go and grab Sans’ plate, only to find it was already on the counter. You blinked, wildly looking around the room for the source. What kind of magical bullshit was this?

You know what, after the shitshow earlier, you didn’t want to know. You wasted no time fixing up the crepes and joined the boys again. With a soft groan you slid the plate in Sans’ direction, who, much to your internal delight, seemed almost giddy. He eagerly helped himself, stuffing a whole crepe into his mouth and getting hollandaise on his cheek in the process. Your nose crinkled at the sight, but you couldn’t stop the smile that followed.

  
  


“YOU CAN ASK HER POLITELY NEXT TIME, BROTHER.”

  
  


Sans nearly choked on his food, and that got a laugh out of you. He shot a glare in your direction, swallowing his bite before shoving the rest away. It seemed his good nature had run out. What a moody little shit. You rolled your eyes, stabbing a ham chunk and half heartedly eating it. You weren’t really hungry anymore.

  
  


“DO YOU HAVE ANY PLANS TODAY CHILI?” Papyrus cheerfully asked, having finished the last bite of his food. You immediately perked up at the question, before shrugging dismissively, “Not really. I gotta make sure Grillby got the truck back to Pip, then also convince them to get me a new uniform since this one is ruined. If they charge me, you’re paying for it Sans.”

  
  


“the fuck?”

  
  


“LANGUAGE. ALTHOUGH I DO AGREE. YOU DID RUIN IT WITH YOUR VOMIT AFTER ALL.”

  
  


Sans snorted, rolling his eyelights and crossing his arms with a huff. Ah, there was the asshole skeleton you were used to.

  
  


“It’s fine, knowing Pip I’m sure they won’t even worry about it. They’re pretty cool like that,” you smiled at the thought of your boss, who always took time out of their day to check in on you. Since you’d texted them that something had come up, they’d been texting you back periodically to ensure you were safe, and wishing you well. It was sweet, they didn’t know you very well, but the fact that they cared touched you deeply. It wasn’t often someone became so invested in you.

  
  


“WHY DO YOU HAVE ONE OF PIP’S TRUCKS ANYWAY? AREN’T THOSE USED TO DELIVER THEIR PRODUCE?”

  
  


“she works for ‘em now.”

  
  


Your head whipped in Sans’ direction, eyebrows knitted together accusingly,” Oh, now you remember last night’s events? Thought you were too busy getting blitzed to overhear my conversation with Grillby.”

  
  


“WAIT, YOU WORK FOR PIP NOW?”

  
  


“left her cushy professor job to slum it like the rest of us monsters,” Sans explained, and dammit if his brother wasn’t right there to stop you from punching him-

  
  


“YOU... QUIT?” You couldn’t look at him, even though you could feel his gaze watching you. How could you answer him? Would he take the explanation you gave Grillby? Or would he think it was because of him you left? You didn’t want to find out, you hadn’t wanted him to even know about it! But then his stupid brother had to open his fucking mouth-

  
  


“so she said, bet they fired her for bein’ a drunk.”

  
  


“They suspended me,” you finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper as you fought to control your fury. Your nails had dug into your palm so hard they drew blood, and you stared blankly at the table, “I was put on a one month suspension.”

  
  


“I fully intended on going on a binge and drinking myself into oblivion... but then I ran into you...” you continued, unable to gather the courage to meet Papyrus’ eyes. Hell, you couldn’t even glare at _Sans_ , despite how absolutely livid you were with him. You would get him back for this at some point, but not now, not when you had to try and make Papyrus understand your reasoning.

  
  


“I went home that night and stared at that damn bottle of Jack for hours. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself to drown in it, I couldn’t. I couldn’t drink it knowing that-” When you finally glanced at Papyrus, he was listening to you intently. His expression was unreadable, and that momentarily faltered you. Was he mad at you? You wouldn’t blame him if he was.

  
  


“I... I dumped it. All of it. Watched it go down the drain and disappear. Then I cleaned up my house and made a swear jar out of the stupid thing,” you pushed on, breaking away to instead level a look at Sans, “I went cold turkey. Sobered up and never looked back. I met Pip by accident at the Farmer’s Market. We got to talking and he offered me a job. I had already put in my resignation with the University by then, so there wasn’t a reason for me to refuse.”

  
  


You stood, gathering everyone’s plates to clean, only to stop short. Spinning around on one foot you spoke again, an edge to your voice you weren’t expecting, “I decided I wasn’t going to live that way anymore, because I was only hurting myself, and hurting others in the process. I wanted to be better... so I made myself better. Can you say the same for yourself, Sans?”

  
  


“fuck you!” he snarled, slamming the table for emphasis.

  
  


“No thanks,” you smirked, calling over your shoulder as you turned away, “You’re not my type.”

  
  


“what, you're too good for a monster?”

  
  


“Hell no!” you retorted from the kitchen, the sound of dishes being scraped filling the air, “You’re too short.”

  
  


You didn’t need to see the chair clatter to the floor to know Sans had left, and you could only smile to yourself as you started on the dishes. That may not have been the way you wanted to tell Papyrus about leaving the University, but using it as an opportunity to jab at Sans certainly eased the sting. It wasn’t long before the taller skeleton was standing next to you, delicately taking the rinsed dish from your grasp and beginning to dry it. You didn’t protest, and simply went to wash the next one.

The two of you worked in silence, one of you washing and rinsing, the other drying and putting away. There weren’t a lot of dishes to begin with, but you took your time, dragging it out as long as you could. Because once they were done, you knew Papyrus would have questions, and you weren’t quite ready to answer them. He seemed to realize this, and was perfectly content with following your lead. He’d always been like that, going at the speed you chose, letting you decide when it was the right time to-

  
  


The soapy cup dropped with a clatter in the sink as it hit you like a ton of bricks. Oh God, you were an idiot. An absolute fool.

  
  


You slowly turned to look up at him, searching his serious expression. He was already looking back at you expectantly. That was enough to drive you to ACT, and you dared to speak the question looming in your mind.

  
  


“You’ve liked me for awhile, haven’t you? You’ve been waiting for me this entire time.”

  
  


He didn’t respond right away, and that alone caused you to second guess the words you’d just blurted out. Had you been wrong? Did he just like you platonically and you had assumed? Sure, he had said it was a date at Grillby’s, but a lot had changed since then, maybe he’d taken the time to think about it and decided he _didn’t_ see you that way. If so, then all you’ve done is made everything even _more_ awkward, and right when things were starting to get better too!

Before you could come up with an excuse to drop the matter, Papyrus had put down the dish he’d been drying to fully face you. He tentatively placed his hands on your shoulders, and when you didn’t pull away he began to speak.

  
  


“YES. I’VE LIKED YOU FOR QUITE AWHILE.”

  
  


Oh.

  
  


“Oh,” you breathed out, eyes the size of saucers as you scrambled for something more elaborate than fucking ‘ _oh_ ’, “Well that’s- that’s good! Uh, I mean, if you want it to be good. I guess I don’t know what you were expecting from this. I don’t know what _I_ was expecting from this. There’s really a lot of ways we could go about it-”

  
  


“CHILI.”

  
  


“-it’s not like we have to rush anything, ya know? Hell, we don’t have to do _anything_ right now. We could just keep things as is or-”

  
  


“ _Chili_.”

  
  


“-we could even start small. Nothing crazy or elaborate. Oh shit, Sans is gonna blow a gasket isn’t he? I know you don’t really care- or do you? If so then we should probably ease him into it. I _really_ don’t wanna get my ass kicked-”

  
  


“I’m Going To Kiss You.”

  
  


“Huh?” That was all you got out before Papyrus’ teeth crashed against your lips. The abruptness caught you off guard, sending you stumbling back into the kitchen counter. That didn’t deter him in the slightest, if anything it gave him the courage to deepen the kiss by gently cupping your head in his hand.

Kissing teeth was... strange. Not in a bad way, but exponentially different than all the human lips you’ve had on your mouth in the past. For one they were a little rough, and certainly weren’t in any way malleable. The taste of chalk had been the first thing you’d noticed, the second being he didn’t seem to know what he was doing. Was... was this his first kiss?

Once your brain managed to catch up to what was currently happening, you took the opportunity to kiss him back. It took a bit of maneuvering, but soon your lips were meshed perfectly against his teeth, and it was better than anything you could have imagined. Like any other time Papyrus was faced with a challenge, he approached with eagerness, doing everything he could to match the slow and tender pace you’d set. When you tilted your head, he responded in kind by tilting the opposite way, letting his fingers curl into your scalp. It may have been all bone, but it was warm, and it was _him_ , and now that you’d had a taste you couldn’t get enough.

He’d startled a little when he first felt your tongue, and would have likely pulled away if you hadn’t been gripping the back of his neck. Your tongue relented for a moment, waiting for him to settle before slowly making its way to the edges of his teeth. It prodded politely, almost like someone knocking on a door, and it was only with minor hesitance he parted his mouth to allow access.

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you explored the recesses of his skull, but what you’d discovered is that it wasn’t that bad. It was cooler, and an energy buzzed within that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Nonetheless, you kept your exploration brief, gentle and patient, letting him get used to the feeling. Should he have chosen to pull away you wouldn’t protest, but as time went on and he still hadn’t moved, you figured he was enjoying himself.

You didn’t know Papyrus had a tongue until it brushed against yours nervously. The surprised noise you made spooked him, and it quickly retreated to wherever it magically manifested from. You couldn’t control the whine that escaped in protest, and that coaxed a soft chuckle out of him and for the appendage to return. This time, his pursuit was a little more confident, and he made sure to thoroughly explore every inch of your own tongue before bravely pushing past it to dip into your mouth.

  
  


He was rewarded with a soft moan, and boy did that get a reaction out of him.

  
  


Strong hands firmly grasped your thighs, and even in their haste they effortlessly lifted you onto the counter. Soon he was settled between your legs, one hand moving to rest precariously on your hip while the other returned to the back of your head. From this angle he had better access to your mouth, and he made sure to take full advantage. Soon all you could taste was leftover crepes and feel the soft tingle of his magic devouring your mouth in its entirety. Another moan escaped, followed by another, and when did your legs wrap around his pelvis to pull him closer?

It was only when you managed to draw a soft groan out of him you realized just how far things had escalated. Despite your body’s protests you broke the kiss, staring at him with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face. What you found was him watching you like a deer caught in the headlights, before he let out a soft sigh and pressed his forehead against yours.

  
  


“I’m Sorry, I Should Have Asked First,” he sounded breathless, and it took all of your restraint not to pull him back in to finish what he’d started.

  
  


“Oh, no baby, please don’t apologize,” you cooed, fingers dancing along his skull as you pulled away to face him, “Please don’t ever apologize for that. That was... amazing.”

  
  


He blushed deeply, unable to meet your gaze, but he slowly grabbed your hands and brought them to his teeth. You hummed in contentment, closing your eyes to savor the feeling, before pulling one hand away to cup his jaw.

  
  


“Look, I don’t know what this is, what we have I mean, but I uh,” you paused, struggling to find the words that could possibly explain what you wanted. Did you even know?

_Him,_ your mind readily supplied, causing you to blush at the implication. Sure, you definitely had _that_ kind of want, but this was more than that. Papyrus wasn’t the kind of guy who did one night stands, he was the one who brought you flowers on the first date and took his time just because. The one you brought home to your parents knowing they’d approve.

It was like a lightbulb went off in your head, and Papyrus must have noticed the shift in your demeanor, because now he was leaning over you curiously. The close proximity momentarily reminded you of what happened the last time he’d been near, and you blushed at the memory of his teeth pressed so gently against your lips, how easily his tongue had found its way into your mouth-

  
  


“There’s someone I want you to meet,” you exclaimed, willing away sinful thoughts as you bravely met his gaze. He blinked, once, then again, before pulling back thoughtfully.

  
  


“YOU WANT TO INTRODUCE ME TO SOMEONE?”

  
  


“Y-Yeah... if that’s okay?” You were suddenly nervous. What if he thought that was a little forward? This was entirely new for both of you. Aside from cooking, you hadn’t revealed any part of your life to him. In the beginning, you had done that for the sake of professionalism, but now that your job at the University was no longer in the way... would it hurt to be a little more open with him? It might even be nice, to have someone know _you_ , and not the person you’d made yourself out to be.

  
  


Even though that “person” was still a complete, hot mess.

  
  


He caught you off guard by cupping your face in his hands, his radiant smile giving you butterflies. A strand of hair was brushed from your face, and it was hard not to lean into it when it felt so right. Was it possible to stay like this longer? Maybe forever? Forever sounded great right now.

  
  


“I’D BE DELIGHTED TO MEET THIS ‘SOMEONE’. WHEN WERE YOU THINKING?”

  
  


“Mmm,” you pondered aloud, more-so using the moment to revel in the way his hand felt against your cheek, “Next weekend okay? Gotta make sure she’s up for visitors.”

  
  


“WHENEVER YOU’D LIKE, MY DEAR.” Oh, you liked that nickname. It was affectionate, eloquently conveyed in a way that made sure you knew just how much he cared for you. Was this how he spoke to all the people he courted, or were you just scratching the surface of something deeper? You couldn’t wait to find out.

  
  


“O-Okay,” and just like that you were a sputtering mess, because apparently pet names really did it for you.

  
  


Your embarrassment was met with tender amusement, and the glimmer in his eyes was positively dangerous as he drew near and whispered next to your cheek, “I’d Very Much Like To Kiss You Again, If That’s Alright?”

  
  


“Y-Yeah.” You were beyond saving at this point. You’d become putty in his hands and there was nothing that could be done about it.

  
  


You didn’t get a chance to worry, for Papyrus was eager as always in his endeavor, and quickly captured your mouth with his. Never in your life would you have thought you’d welcome the sweet taste of chalk on your lips.


	12. Mama

Papyrus had been rooted to his spot for the past ten minutes, staring at the quaint two-story house in front of him quietly. You hadn’t said anything the entire time, standing beside him with his hand in yours. He’d forgone the gloves today, mostly because he enjoyed the way your fingers felt entwined with his. When it was obvious he wasn’t going to be moving any time soon, you finally broke the silence.

  
  


“We can’t stay out here all day Pap.”

  
  


“OF COURSE WE CAN’T. THAT’D JUST BE SILLY.”

  
  


“So then... let’s go.”

  
  


“RIGHT! LET’S!” He didn’t move. You gave him a confused look.

  
  


“Have you... changed your mind? We can always reschedule-”

  
  


“NO!” His grip tightened to the point you actually winced, but surprisingly didn’t pull away. He was grateful for that, even if he didn’t show it.

You casted a fleeting glance towards the house, then looked up at him, “It’ll be fine, Skeletor. No one’s going to blame you for being a little nervous.”

  
  


“NERVOUS? THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOESN’T KNOW THE MEANING OF THE WORD!” He proudly puffed out his chest, his free hand moving to rest on it. It would have been convincing if he wasn’t visibly sweating.

  
  


“Really? So then, the ‘Great Papyrus’ has no qualms with us going inside now?” You tugged gently, likely with the hope that he’d follow. He remained rigid in his stance.

  
  


“OF COURSE NOT!” He still didn’t move. You looked like you were about to lose it.

  
  


“Pap, we _can’t_ keep standing here. Eventually a nosy neighbor is gonna call the cops on us for loitering or something.” You tugged hard enough to send him toppling, his quick reflexes catching himself in the nick of time. He leveled you with a look, but it didn’t phase you in the slightest. You tugged again, and he went willingly, albeit at a slow and disjointed gait. When you seemed to realize you weren’t breaking any ground, you whirled around with a fire in your eyes.

  
  


“Okay, what’s your damage dude? Normally you’re the one dragging me everywhere.” You were right and he hated it, he wasn’t acting like himself at all.

He’d been fine the entire ride over. You and him had passed the time with loud music and random stories, him occasionally pulling up a meme on his phone he knew you’d get a kick out of. You had resorted to trolling him towards the end, his indignant squawking only fueling the fire.

If he were honest, he wasn’t annoyed by it, he only acted offended because of how cute your reaction was. It made you happy to mess around with him, and that was more than enough reason for him to play the part. He’d listen to pointless arguments and endure “cursed” content forever if it meant seeing you smile.

The fun times had ground to a screeching halt when you’d finally arrived, quickly replaced by a sense of dread. A sinking feeling had overcome his soul when he’d gotten out of the car, which led to him standing awkwardly in front of the house while he tried to gather the courage to head inside.

You hadn’t told him much about your life before meeting him. There hadn’t really been a reason to, no matter how curious he’d been to learn everything about you. Unfortunately, you weren’t the type of person to give information freely, not unless it was relevant to the situation.

Since the beginning, you’d been a puzzle he’d been desperately trying to solve, struggling to find the missing pieces. It was along the way he’d come to admire your spirit and desire to do right by others, your unwavering dedication to any task given to you, and your ability to make some of the best food he’d ever had the privilege of tasting. You always said he was brilliant, that he could take on the world without breaking a sweat. It was funny, because he could easily say the same about you. If only you saw yourself the way you saw him.

So here he was, about to fit another piece into the puzzle that was your life in hopes it’ll bring him one step closer to finding out who you truly were. Except he couldn’t convince himself to walk up to the damn door.

He didn’t even know who he was meeting. He could take a guess, but he didn’t want to rush to assumptions, especially when this person was obviously very important to you. You hadn’t said that persay, but the way you talked about her, how your eyes filled with immense love at the thought of seeing her again, it was clear she was someone you held near and dear to your heart. Which meant this visit had to go perfectly, if he ever wanted a chance at something more with you.

Would she like him? Would she think he was too loud or awkward? Would she find his outfit strange, or think he was too tall? What if she was hoping for you to end up with someone rich and successful, like a lawyer or doctor? There were too many variables in the equation, leading to an overwhelming amount of outcomes that could occur once he walked inside. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop focusing on all the ways this could go horribly wrong.

He didn’t think he could be enough for you, not when you deserved so much more.

  
  


“Hey...” your voice called out softly, shattering the intrusive thoughts threatening to swallow him whole. When he met your eyes they were filled with warmth, a sad but determined smile on your face. “She’s gonna love ya Pap. You really are great.”

  
  


It was like a weight had been lifted, it wonderful to hear you say that. How could he have ever doubted himself when he had you by his side, showing him every step of the way how great he was? He may not be perfect, but he didn’t need to be, because it was moments like this that proved to him that he was more than enough.

  
  


“OF COURSE SHE WILL, WHAT’S THERE NOT TO LOVE?” His confidence was back in full swing, and it was with a brilliant smile he hooked his arm with yours and led you to the front door.

It took two knocks before it was answered, and Papyrus was met by someone he wasn’t at all expecting.

A man around your age had opened the door, standing tall, though not quite his height, with skin as dark as night and an intimidating expression. When he saw you though, it shifted into unbridled delight, and it was then Papyrus got a glimpse of his soft brown eyes. You didn’t hesitate to run into his muscular arms, clinging to his neck and squealing in greeting. The man effortlessly twirled you around in a circle, a laugh almost as deep as Sans’ reverberating through his chest, before he let go and kissed your cheek.

Papyrus shouldn’t be jealous. There wasn’t a reason to be. You had made it clear last week that you had feelings for him, and although you weren’t entirely specific as to how far it entailed, he assumed it was more than friends considering how willing you had been to shove your tongue down his proverbial throat. Papyrus was a rational monster, who always tried to see the best in others, and led his thoughts with logic instead of emotion.

So, no. He shouldn’t be jealous with how at home you looked standing next to the man, resting a hand on his broad, muscled, chest like it belonged there, flipping your hair and smiling up at him without a care in the world. That would be absurd, not to mention incredibly immature of him. Papyrus wasn’t immature, he was sauve and confident, he always kept his cool no matter what. Even when a handsome man was running a hand gently down your arm and talking sweetly to you.

  
  


“WHO IS THIS CHILI?” He unsubtly interrupted, moving to stand next to you and rested a hand on your shoulder. If anyone noticed him pull you protectively to his side, well, it was probably just their imagination.

  
  


“Oh!” You turned to him with an apologetic smile, “Sorry Pap, I should have introduced you first. This is-”

  
  


“I’m Lucian, but you can call me ‘yours’,” the man crooned, stepping into his space to shamelessly run a hand down his sternum. Papyrus froze, face blank as he internally processed what was happening. Was... was that a pick up line? Did this "Lucian" just hit on him?

  
  


“Hey! Hands to yourself!” You barked, your face a mix between annoyed and amused as you shoved him. Lucian half stumbled, and after a playful grin in your direction he turned to assess Papyrus properly.

  
  


“Sorry hun, didn’t mean to scare ya. It’s not often we get visitors around here, and you’re quite a tall drink of water.” If Papyrus had a stomach, it would be flipping over itself at the hungry look in Lucian’s eyes. This visit was quickly taking a turn the skeleton wasn’t at all prepared for.

  
“LUCY, FUCK OFF!” You dove headfirst into Lucian’s stomach, barreling him inside the house until you and him were sprawled on the sofa. He was laughing hysterically, not even trying to fight off the childish way you were pounding your fists on his chest. This only angered you more, and with a vicious warcry you elbow dropped onto his stomach. He let out an “oof”, took a moment to recover, and then gripped you by the waist and threw you off him. You hit the floor with an “oof” of your own, but when you got up you didn’t go after him again.

Papyrus stood awkwardly by the door, helplessly watching the scene unfold before him and wondering if he needed to intervene. Was this a normal occurrence for you two? What exactly was your relationship with Lucian?

  
  


“Damn sis, still got that nasty temper,” the man huffed, but his smile showed he wasn’t upset. You were, but not enough to do more than roughly pull him to his feet and pat his shoulder while replying, ”Yeah well, someone’s gotta put you in your place.”

  
  


Well, at least one of his questions was answered.

  
  


Papyrus took this chance to walk in and close the door behind him, careful to wipe his boots on the mat so as not to trek dirt in. You may not care about manners, but he did, and he needed to show that he could be the perfect gentleman for you. When he looked up again he observed his surroundings closely.

The entrance was right next to the living room, where a floral sofa and matching loveseat sat around an antique coffee table, the wood marred with water rings from years of use. A rustic fireplace was the centerpiece of the room, its brick painted an off-white save for the dark brown mantle. Numerous frames adorned the top of it, each one filled with multiple people. Without thinking he walked over to inspect them, curious to know if he’d find you there.

You and Lucian were in every one of them in various stages of your lives, starting out when you were relatively young, to awkward teenage years, to what looked to be a few years prior to your current age. He noted that you never smiled in them. If anything, you looked bored, saved for the first and last ones.

The first one worried him a little, he couldn’t tell how old you exactly were, but it was young, and you were very thin. Your shirt hung too loosely around your shoulders, your face gaunt and eyes sunken in. You looked tired and resigned, as if only in the picture because you had to be. What happened in your life to cause that?

He moved on to the last picture, where you stood with Lucian and two other people in front of a brick building. You were in a black gown, with a strange cap on your head and a tassel hanging over the square side. In your hands was some sort of certificate, and while everyone was smiling proudly around you, you only looked relieved, as if you didn’t think you’d ever get to take that picture.

  
  


“That’s the day I graduated from the University,” you murmured beside him, studying the photo with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. He nodded thoughtfully, sweeping over the photos one last time before asking you, “WHY ARE YOU, LUCIAN, AND THAT WOMAN THE ONLY PEOPLE IN EVERY PHOTO?”

  
  


That was apparently the wrong question to ask. Your face hardened, and you turned away without another word to approach Lucian, who was casually lounging on the loveseat. You tapped his knee silently, then tilted your head towards the hallway that branched away from the living room, “She in her room?”

  
  


“Yeah, she wanted to get a little more rest before you showed up. Surprised she didn’t come out to yell at us for horsin’ around,” he chuckled, and it seemed whomever he was talking about had heard you, for a voice called out from a hidden room loudly.

  
  


“Oh, I planned to. Just needed to get my slippers on before I came out and whooped ya asses!”

  
  


A door opened and closed, followed by slow shuffling and labored breathing that grew louder as the hunched figure approached. When she reached the edge of the hall you went to her, grabbing a hold of her arm and the walker she was using to escort her to her spot. It was then Papyrus noticed the worn, wingback chair nestled between the window and fireplace as you made a beeline for it, easing the woman into it with the utmost care.

It was the same woman in the photos, but many years older. Her once smooth, chocolate brown skin was wrinkled around her eyes, and sagged down into soft jowls due to age. Her arms weren’t much better, and her pleasantly plump frame had taken on extra wrinkles and skin, filling her out a little more. Despite this, nothing about her was uninviting, if anything her pink nightgown and matching silk bonnet were adorable, and it was easy to be drawn into the kind hazel eyes set above her full cheeks. She took a moment to get comfortable, breathing like she’d just run a marathon and not walked twenty steps to a chair, before finally addressing him.

  
  


“Well now, ain’t you cute as can be! Come give Mama some sugar, baby,” she opened her arms, and like the awkward idiot he was, he gawked at her as if she’d sprouted a new limb. Thankfully, you came to his rescue by stepping in his place and wrapping her in a warm embrace.

  
  


“Ma! There’s no way I’m letting him get a hug before I do!” You pretended to sound offended, planting a dramatic and wet kiss to her cheek, and only moved away when she made a show of shooing you with her hands.

  
  


“Off you git chile! I wanna get a good look at your new man,” she rasped, ignoring the way you sputtered at the title. Papyrus raised an eyebrow at you, then decided he would address that reaction later. Right now, he had a beautiful woman to impress.

  
  


“IT’S A PLEASURE TO FINALLY MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE MA’AM. I’M PAPYRUS, AND I’VE BEEN EAGER TO MEET THE WOMAN WHO SHAPED CHILI INTO THE WONDERFUL PERSON SHE IS TODAY,” he smiled charmingly, bending down to take her frail hand in his bony one to bring to his teeth. She laughed at the gesture, it quickly turning into a wheeze as she began to cough from the effort. His smile fell, and he quickly kneeled in front of her to rub her back as she rode out her fit. You left to grab some water, and he didn’t hesitate to take it and bring it to her lips. She accepted the glass, tapping his hand away with a disgruntled expression.

  
  


“I ain’t no babe that needs tendin’ to. I can drink it myself thank you, and no more of that “ma’am” nonsense. Everyone calls me Mama, and you’d best do the same if you know what’s good for you.” She gave him a pointed glare over her water as she drank it, and set it down on the small table beside her with shaky hands.

  
  


“MY APOLOGIES MISS MAMA, I ONLY WANT TO GIVE RESPECT WHERE IT’S DUE.”

  
  


She started to laugh again, but not as hard as the first time. She reached out to touch his face, and he immediately leaned forward to oblige. Her chubby fingers took their time exploring his features, running along his cheekbones and careful to skirt around his sockets. She didn’t touch his teeth, only traced along his jaw before resting her palm on the top of his skull and leaving it there.

  
  


“Hmm, are all you skeletons so thin? You need a good meal in you,” she stated, which resulted in Papyrus having a mental battle about whether or not she was making a horrible pun or genuinely concerned for his well being. You sputtered again, clearly offended for him as you yelled indignantly, “Ma! You can’t say stuff like that!”

  
  


“And why the hell not? Boy ain’t nothin’ but bone, surely with all that magic and whatnot he can build himself some muscle like Lucy here,” she spoke as if her logic was undeniable, and Papyrus struggled not to burst out laughing. This woman wasn’t just sassy though, she was keen, and she quickly caught his expression and met it with a stern glare.

  
  


“You got somethin’ to say? Spit it out!” Well. No need to tell him twice.

  
  


“FORGIVE ME MAMA, BUT THAT ISN’T HOW MAGIC WORKS. I ASSURE YOU THAT EVEN WITHOUT MUSCLE I AM IN PEAK PHYSICAL CONDITION. I COULD EASILY PICK UP LUCIAN AND THROW HIM ACROSS THE ROOM IF I WANTED.”

  
  


“Oh God, is that a promise?” Lucian swooned, and barely dodged the pillow you chucked at his face.

  
  


“Lucy! What I tell you about hittin’ on our guests? Get your mind outta the gutter, and go get us some tea,” Mama admonished with a look of steel, and Lucian was immediately cowed. He rubbed the back of his neck with chagrin, glancing at Papyrus momentarily in apology before doing as the woman asked. Papyrus ignored him, mostly because he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to the burly man and his blatant advances.

  
  


“So Papaya,” Mama smiled sweetly at him as she settled back into her seat and Papyrus grimaced, but didn’t interrupt, “How did you and my baby girl meet?”

  
  


“I WAS IN HER COOKING CLASS FOR A SEMESTER. SHE OFFERED ME PRIVATE LESSONS SO I COULD CATCH UP,” he replied, practically beaming at the memory of his first meeting with you. You’d been livid with him, to the point he had been mildly concerned for his safety, but even then he couldn’t help but be drawn to the fire you exuded from your very being. It was rare for a human to acknowledge his existence without fear, let alone confront him head on with no regret. It had been refreshing in the best way, and he’d decided then and there he would do whatever it took to be your friend.

  
  


“ _Private_ lessons? They let teacher’s do that kind of thing at the U now?” Lucian was back with the tea, his smile devious as he set the tray of glasses on the coffee table. He handed one to Mama, making sure she had a firm grip before making himself comfortable next to Papyrus. Too comfortable.

  
  


“Lucian...” you warned, pricklier than a porcupine at how close your brother had settled himself beside him. The man’s look was telling, and he stared you right in the eye as he slowly rested his head on Papyrus’ shoulder. He immediately stiffened, watching Lucian from the corner of his socket with apprehension.

  
  


“What? Aren't siblings supposed to share?" Lucian batted his lashes playfully, before turning to look up at Papyrus with a sultry grin, "Sharing is caring and all that. Wouldn't you agree Pappy?"

  
  


No. No he did not.

  
  


"I'M FLATTERED, BUT YOU'RE NOT MY TYPE," he responded briskly, being mindful of his grip as he gently pushed Lucian away. The sight of a muscular man pouting like a small child was almost comical. You were clearly amused, snickering behind your hand in... Was that satisfaction? So he'd been right to assume you were jealous! The discovery made him feel just a little lighter.

  
  


"Boo... All the good ones are straight," Lucian dramatically sighed, throwing himself against the sofa arm opposite of Papyrus.

  
  


The monster's brow bones came together in momentary confusion, but once the words registered they lifted as he clarified, "OH, NO. IT'S NOT THAT. I JUST DON'T FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE."

  
  


He didn't understand why you doubled over in laughter, or why Lucian looked appalled that such a statement was made. When you didn’t stop laughing for a solid two minutes he grew concerned, but Lucian was annoyed. Your brother grabbed a spare throw pillow and whacked you over the head with it, abruptly ending your laughing fit.

  
  


“Oh you done fucked up now,” you growled, though you were grinning. Soon the living room was nothing but a barrage of pillows, and all Papyrus could do was lean away from the crossfire and watch the chaos unfold. Laughter filled the air with every object thrown, and Mama looked on with an expression only a mother who’s dealt with rambunctious children for way too long could convey.

When she caught his eye she winked, a playful smile on wrinkled lips before it was schooled into something serious as she yelled, “Now no more of that nonsense! Baby girl’s here to catch up with us, not be harassed by your dumb ass.”

  
  


“Sorry Ma.”

“Sorry Mama.”

  
  


Her face softened, and it was easy to tell just how much she loved both of you. She cleared her throat, taking a generous sip of her drink before facing you cheerfully,” So, remind me where you got that gingerdoodle recipe again? The ladies at church have been asking for it for ages.”

  
  


Your face brightened immediately, and after setting aside a pillow you leaned closer and explained, “Oh yeah! Did I tell you Pap was able to make them by just hearing me recite the recipe? He was passing by when I was on the phone with you and...”

  
  


He leaned back, content with listening to you retell the story. Your motions were animated as you spoke, too enraptured in the words to notice him staring. This side of you was new to him, and it left him wondering how much of you he really knew. It was like seeing two completely different people; the Chili he’d met and come to know was reserved, ill-tempered and closed off to the world. This Chili however...

You laughed at something Lucian said, resting an arm on his shoulder while you replied to Mama, pointing at the man with your eyebrows raised. They laughed with you, and the look of happiness that overcame you in that moment was blinding. You glanced up from the conversation for a moment to grin at him, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen it look so genuine before. Like nothing was holding you back.

No, Papyrus may not know this Chili... but he certainly wanted to. He looked forward to the day he could get you to smile like that on his own, when he could make you feel at home with him. He hoped that day would be soon, because right now he couldn’t see another one go by without you in it.

Stars, he knew he’d fallen for you, but he didn’t expect to fall so hard. He’d had his head in the clouds and now was spiraling downward, crashing head first into reality. It had rattled him to the very core, but the pain was refreshing and helped him see you in a new light. He was building himself a better future now that he was Aboveground, and you were a piece that he wanted in it. All he had to do was find a way to tell you.

Until then, he would enjoy the present, reveling in the joy you radiated just by being with your family again. He’d always felt that you needed more of it in your life.

His face was the epitome of bliss while watching your conversation, with his thoughts lingering on the hope that he could help bring it.

***

You’d fallen asleep halfway through the fifth episode of GBB, your head having lolled against Papyrus’ shoulder unwittingly. You’d already seen this show with him, but Lucian had practically begged to watch it with you in hopes you would help him understand the lingo. There was a cute boy at the local bakery he was trying to impress, but he didn’t want to sound like an idiot every time he spoke to him.

Papyrus had taken your place in translating as soon as your eyes had closed, not having the heart to wake you. It was late, later than you had planned on staying, but the drive had been long and catching up with your family was exhausting, he felt you deserved the extra rest. His phone showed three missed calls from Sans, but he ignored them. He had texted his brother an hour ago saying he’d be out a little later than predicted, he didn’t need to explain himself any further. He wasn’t a babybones that the older skeleton needed to keep tabs on, not anymore.

  
  


“They’re Proofing The Dough Before Baking It To Get A Fluffier Consistency,” he explained absently, but he was watching the rise and fall of your chest against his arm. The sound of his voice caused you to stir, and his soul flared with affection when you merely snuggled closer and hummed in content. Stars you were adorable.

  
  


“Hm, is that right?” Lucian didn’t seem to be paying attention to the TV, instead eyeing him intensely. Papyrus had grown accustomed to the older man watching him throughout the day, whether it was curious glances or minor reactions to something you’d said. He wasn’t entirely subtle, but even if he had been Papyrus would have noticed anyway. He’d discovered from an early age that observation was a wonderful tool for survival, whether it was for his or his brother’s though was what he wasn’t sure about.

  
  


“It Seems You’re No Longer Interested In Hearing Miss Merry Berry’s Critique, Shall We Turn This Off?” When the skeleton glanced Lucian’s way he looked surprised, but it was quickly replaced with a casual grin. A perfect mask, one that Papyrus could easily see through. He grew up with the master of masks after all, he had to learn quickly.

If Lucian noticed that he wasn’t buying it, he chose not to acknowledge it, instead shrugging his shoulders and leaning into the loveseat, “Nah, it’ll wake her up. She could use a little more sleep. Besides, I haven’t gotten the chance to really get to know you today.”

  
  


“Is This The Part Where You Tell Me That If I Hurt Your Sister I’ll Have A Bad Time?”

  
  


The man’s eyebrows skyrocketed upwards, the disbelief palpable in his expression. It was another quick transition of his features to have him looking amused, a soft laugh leaving him, “Damn. She said you were smart, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for her to be right.”

  
  


“I’ll Take That As A Compliment,” Papyrus replied with a small smirk on his teeth, no ill Intent evident. This made Lucian relax, his previous smile turning into a genuine one. It seemed Papyrus wasn’t getting that talk anymore, though that didn’t stop Lucian from studying him, something else clearly on the man's mind. After a while, Papyrus assumed he was going to let it go, but a shift of the cushions brought his attention to him.

  
  


“She’s just been through a lot, ya know? I’m glad that she’s... finally living. For herself anyway, and not because she thinks it’s what she has to do.” Papyrus hadn’t known Lucian for long, but he could tell that the tone he used was uncharacteristic of him. It was too soft, a somber note that left the skeleton wondering what happened to you to make him look so defeated.

What was more concerning is that Papyrus could relate to everything your brother was saying. Not for himself, but for his own brother. The one who was currently trying to call him. _A_ _gain_. He deliberately rejected the call this time, hoping the bonehead would take the hint. He would be home when he was damn well ready to be home. He tried to ignore the guilt crawling up his proverbial throat.

  
  


“I’ve got a feeling you can relate, huh?” When Papyrus looked at him, he was surprised to find nothing accusing. If anything, he looked sad, as if he understood the burden he had to bear. Did he really? Was your predicament with your brother so similar to his and Sans’ that he could easily recognize it? Or was it a lucky guess? He decided that Lucian was smarter than he let on and it was the former.

  
  


“In A Way,” Papyrus settled on, careful not to disturb you as he shifted to better address him, “Though I Didn’t Get To Choose My Brother And The Struggles That Came With Him. You And Chili Got To Choose Each Other.”

  
  


That got a startled laugh out of him, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his voice down for your sake. When he settled it was with a loud exhale, looking at Papyrus with newfound appreciation, “Damn. You really are a smart son of a bitch. What gave it away?”

  
  


“Language Please. To Answer Your Question, The Obvious One Was That Neither You, Her, Or Mama Share Any Similar Physical Traits. I’ve Been Told Humans That Are Biologically Related Have At Least One Or Two Defining Features That Each One Shares In The Family. The Other Is,” He glanced at the picture frames on the mantle, the lack of light shadowing the people in them into unrecognizable blobs, “There’s Different People In Every Photo Besides You Three. I Took An Educated Guess That Mama Might Have Run A... Temporary Home Of Sorts For Children?”

  
  


Lucian whistled low, offering a quiet applause at his explanation, “Amazing. Do you do birthday parties? Got a friend who’s into that sh-stuff. But anyway, yeah, Mama took us in as fosters when we were young. I showed up a few weeks before her, and when she came in, oh man was she skinny, I can’t imagine living through what she did-” He stopped when Papyrus lifted his hand abruptly.

  
  


“Forgive The Interruption, But I’d Prefer Chili Tell Me The Story Herself, When She’s Ready.” His expression gave no room for argument, the corners of his eyes tugged down sadly.

Yes, he was itching to know what exactly happened to turn you into the guarded person you were today, but it didn’t feel right to hear it come from anyone else but you. You’d kept it from him for a reason, and his desire to keep your trust overpowered his curiosity by a long shot. You’d tell him one day, he was sure of it, and he was more than willing to wait. If everything went according to plan, you'd have the rest of your lives to let him know.

Your brother stared at him for a long time after that. He was content with sitting in the silence, the constant rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a lax state. It was always a pleasure to see you with your defenses down, you had such a gorgeous face, and he’d always marveled at the relaxed state of your lips and the twitch of your nose as you dreamed. His phalange traced along your temple and cheek of its own volition, and an affectionate smile quickly followed in its place. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

  
  


“How long have you loved her?” He should have seen the question a million miles away, it wasn’t like he tried to hide his feelings after all, but it still hit him square in the chest and left him sprawling. Papyrus tensed, braving a glance at Lucian only to find genuine curiosity. Even that wasn’t enough reassurance to answer right away, so the skeleton went back to staring at your face and stroking it tenderly. The smile you gave him in your sleep was though, and soon the words were coming out, “I Couldn’t Tell You Exactly When, But It’s Been A While. Much Longer Than She’s Loved Me.”

  
  


“You think she loves you?” Lucian raised a skeptic brow, clearly doubtful. Papyrus smirked, perhaps a little too smug in his findings, but he couldn’t help but feel confident based on what he'd seen.

  
  


“I Have... An Inkling. I Certainly Hope It Isn’t Wishful Thinking On My Part.” You let out a soft sigh as he said that, your eyelids fluttering open as you took in your surroundings. He retracted his hand before you could notice, careful to make it seem like he’d simply let you fall asleep on him instead of fawning over you the past hour. Fortunately, you were as oblivious as ever, regarding him with a sleepy expression before realizing your position.

You bolted upright, blushing furiously as you hastily adjusted your shirt that had slid up your stomach in your sleep,” Shit, Pap. Why didn’t you wake me? What time is it?”

  
  


“LATE. ARE YOU AWAKE ENOUGH TO DRIVE? SANS HAS BEEN ‘BLOWING UP’ MY PHONE AS YOU PUT IT. IT’S PROBABLY BEST WE LEAVE BEFORE HE SOMEHOW HAS A HEART ATTACK,” it was easy to return his voice to a normal volume, as if he’d been speaking like that the entire time. It was also easy to act as if he didn’t notice you glancing at where you’d once been asleep with a look of curiosity that quickly turned into embarrassment, as if cuddling up to him had been something scandalous. You got flustered by the darndest things.

  
  


“Hey, how come she doesn’t get scolded for swearing? Picking favorites, teacher’s pet?” Lucian slipped right into the teasing brother act, winking at him when you weren’t looking. You rolled your eyes at the question, and to keep appearances Papyrus quipped back, “I DON’T NEED TO. HER SWEAR JAR DOES IT FOR ME.”

  
  


“Oh God, I forgot about that. I’m gonna owe like fifty bucks after today.” You whined pitifully, it was clear the sleep wasn’t entirely cleared from your mind.

  
  


“SEVENTY-FIVE ACTUALLY.”

  
  


“Fuuuuuuddggge,” you groaned, catching the curse in time and running a hand down your face, which got him and Lucian laughing. You grumbled as you went to stand and hugged your brother in goodbye, promising to visit again soon and for him to give Mama your love. He stood by the door patiently, wanting you to take as much time as you needed. It was obvious you were lingering, reluctant to go but knowing it was necessary. It was hard to go back after being in the safety of your home again, where you knew everyone loved you. He knew by the time you’d reached the city limits you’d be back to the Chili he knew, the one with the world on your shoulders and a need to hold everyone at arm’s length.

  
  


“Don’t think you’re getting out of here without a hug of your own mister,” Lucian grinned, opening his arms wide to invite him into his broad chest. The gesture was unexpected, but nonetheless appreciated, and Papyrus didn’t hesitate to close the distance and wrap his arms tightly around him. When his chin rested on his shoulder, he could feel the man’s breath before the whispered words that followed, “I hope your wishful thinking isn’t wrong, boneboy. She has a habit of not seeing a good thing when it’s right in front of her.”

  
  


When he pulled away your brother said, “Mmm, you’ve got quite the grip Papyrus. Think I can set up an appointment to get into those arms again sometime?” He didn’t need to turn around to know you were shaking with internal rage, the sinister grin Lucian was giving you over his shoulder a dead giveaway. You gripped Papyrus’ wrist a little too tightly, yanking him backwards and towards the door as you called out, “We’re leaving. Fuck you Lucian.”

  
  


“Love you too sis!” Was the last thing he heard before the door slammed behind you. When you got to the car you finally released him from your vice grip, and when you looked up at him with a tired and exasperated expression he couldn’t stop himself from saying:

  
  


“THAT’S EIGHTY NOW.”

  
  


Your pterodactyl screech was worth the punch to the arm, and even though you pouted for half the trip home, he only felt warmth well up in his soul at Lucian’s parting words. He really hoped his wishful thinking was right too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little longer than I was expecting but I'm not mad! I've been wanting to write Papyrus' perspective for awhile, and I'm really happy with how this turned out.
> 
> I have a fun question for you guys!
> 
> What song would best describe Chili & Pap's relationship? I'd love to know how you guys see them. Let me know in the comments!


	13. Espresso

“So, when’s the wedding?”

  
  


You choked on air, the phone slipping from your hands to the floor with a resounding clatter. Lucian’s laughter was loud enough for you to hear as you scrambled to retrieve it. He was still going when you brought the device back to your ear, thinking about all the ways you could murder him without physically being there.

  
  


“W-What the fuck dude.”

  
  


“Seriously, how big is your swear jar now? Are you gonna make rent this month?”

  
  


“I’m hanging up now.”

  
  


“Sis, no c’mon!” He whined, clearly holding back more laughter. Smug bastard. He was lucky you loved him.

  
  


“‘Call your brother’ they said. ‘It’ll be a good time’ they said,” you groaned, flopping back into the pillows on your bed. Light filtered between the fingers covering your face, and for a moment you laid there, mesmerized by the flecks of color shimmering in and out of existence. He was rolling his eyes, you didn’t need to see it to _know_.

  
  


“You’re so dramatic. How does he even put up with you?”

  
  


“I do not have the answers you seek,” there was an air of somberness to your tone, but it was quickly broken by a loud snort. That got _him_ groaning, which quickly led to both of you giggling like slap happy idiots.

  
  


Once there was a comfortable silence between you, Lucian pried further, “For real though, you’re telling me you guys aren’t a thing yet?”

  
  


“I- That’s not- See the thing is-” You were reeling, stalling to avoid the inevitable. You couldn’t tell him, because then it would make the feelings _real_ , and your heart wasn’t ready for that (that was a lie, _you_ weren’t ready for that.)

  
  


“Oh. My. God. You’re literally the most emotionally constipated person I’ve met. Just tell him you _like_ him, sis. I am 1000 percent certain he feels the same way.” His grin was obvious through the phone, and that only irritated you more.

  
  


“Tch. I know he does and that’s the fucking problem Luce!” You found yourself saying, and damn wasn’t that something. Months of pining over the man, and now that you had a chance with him you were running away like the coward you’d always been.

  
  


“Wow. You are all kinds of messed up, girl.” Yeah. You really were.

  
  


“Us being together is unrealistic,” you murmured to the ceiling, the clouds having blocked the sunlight to leave your room overcast and gloomy. A dramatic sigh erupted from the speaker, and you imagined he was dragging a hand down his face.

  
  


“Look, can we just be real here for a second? Take away the excuses, the self loathing and need to sabotage yourself and just... tell me how you _really_ feel please?”

  
  


It was infuriating how easily he could see past your bullshit. Forcing you to face your problems was a talent he’d attained early on in your lives, and he used it to his full advantage. It didn’t matter how loud you screamed or how hard you’d hit him, he was an immovable force that refused to be swayed. He’d take every lie, every insult, every excuse and break them down into unshakeable truths. There was no hiding behind the mask with Lucian, it’d only end up being torn off your face.

The pillowcase was soft against your cheek as you pressed into it, using the pillow to muffle your frustrated screams. You laid there, facedown in the artificial darkness for much longer than necessary, hoping your brother would think you’d hung up. No such luck, he cleared his throat as if to inform you that he was in fact, still there, and no, he was not going to let you ignore his question. Damn him and his stubborn streak.

  
  


“...I think I love him,” you whined into your cotton sanctuary, refusing to move from your spot even as he gasped next to your ear.

  
  


“Babe, I’m so proud of you. You _do_ have a heart in there somewhere!”

  
  


“Lucian, I will find a way to get my hand through this phone to strangle you!” you sat up abruptly, a snarl curling your lip. Unfortunately, the man was immune to your usual tricks, and responded to the threat with a loud snort. A sound of exasperation broke the silence of your apartment, and with great disdain you left your bed to get dressed for the day. What came after was coffee, because stars knows you wouldn't be functioning without it.

Lucian was silent as you gathered supplies for an espresso, likely making some iced coffee monstrosity of his own to pass the time. The next few minutes went by quickly, the only sound keeping you company coming from the coffee grinder and hum of the machine. How your brother was able to keep his mouth shut long enough for you to sit down was beyond you, but the peacefulness of enjoying a good shot of bean juice was interrupted by his deep baritone.

  
  


“So... you love him-"

  
  


"I said I _think_ I love him," you were quick to correct, earning you a soft huff.

  
  


"Right... So anyway, you love him. Why is that a bad thing?"

  
  


Ah, there was the million dollar question. The one you'd been deliberately ignoring for the past week since introducing him to the family. The one that rattled around in your head in the late hours of twilight, keeping you awake in hopes of finding clarity. It was a simple thing, it shouldn't be so hard for you to answer, yet every time the words tried to come out they just as quickly died on your tongue. It was easy to feign ignorance, but deep down you knew better. The denial was thick and greedy as it slithered it's way around your heart.

  
  


"I’ll only hold him back, Luce," you answered finally, staring at the rippling reflection in your cup, "He's got so much going for him. He's funny, kind, charming, and _so_ smart. You think you've seen it but... Paps is gonna do great things one day. He makes everything seem so easy and I'm...well-"

You downed your drink, standing up and quickly rinsing the cup to wash later. He didn't interrupt, waiting for you to gather your thoughts, the ones currently threatening to suffocate you. You returned to your seat only to immediately feel restless, itching to go anywhere but here where you were forced to decipher your dilemma. Drops of liquid speckled the wood beneath your chin in a sporadic pattern, and it was then you realized they were coming from you.

  
  


"What if I can't be enough for him?" the whimper sounded so foreign coming from your mouth, but it was real and raw and now that the tears were coming they wouldn't stop, "What do I even have to offer? I'm a drunk who's letting her degrees go to waste to deliver fucking _produce_."

  
  


The soft sob that came out felt pathetic, and you could feel your face burn in shame as more followed. No matter how hard you tried to hold them back they persisted, wracking your frame and leaving you a sweaty, snotty mess. You didn't know how long you sat there, hunched over your phone crying quietly, but when the tears began to ebb and the sobs morphed into sniffles, all that was left was the sensation of feeling hollow.

  
  


Your name being called reminded you that Lucian was still on the line.

  
  


"Drink some water, hun. You’ll feel better."

  
  


"I'll feel better when I'm no longer covered in snot,” you sniffed, then did as he asked. The coolness was welcoming to your hot and scratchy throat, and you could feel the flush start to fade as you finished a second glass. Fuck you needed a shower.

  
  


You told him as much, and he reluctantly agreed to let you go, but not without leaving you with some heavy food for thought.

  
  


“Before you dismiss the possibility of a relationship with him, maybe think about what he wants first? His feelings have just as much say in it as yours do.”

  
  


“Damn bro, how the fuck aren’t you married yet?” you laughed airily, making your way to the bathroom with a towel in hand.

  
  


“The men around here can’t handle me.”

  
  


“Can’t argue with that. Peace out homes.”

  
  


“Love ya, Sis.”

  
  


“...Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a short chapter this time, but a nice one nonetheless!


	14. Green with Envy

The next couple weeks went by in a blur, and you passed the time by working for Pip and talking with Papyrus whenever you could. You hadn’t seen him since bringing him to meet Mama, but he had been busy and wasn’t able to get away. During a few of your late night conversations, he’d explained that a good friend of his was feeling rather stressed, and he was doing whatever he could to support her. You admired his dedication, even if it meant less time for you.

In a way you understood, if it had been one of your friends (not that you had any), you would have tried to be as supportive as possible (maybe). So, you couldn’t blame him for spending the majority of his time hanging out and talking to this friend, instead of hanging out and talking to you. Mostly.

That didn’t stop you from trying though, including today, when after waking up and making yourself a light breakfast you dialed his number. It rang three times before he picked up.

  
  


“HELLO CHILI! WHAT A PLEASANT SURPRISE TO HEAR FROM YOU SO EARLY IN THE MORNING!” he chirped pleasantly, and the sound of his voice immediately caused a warmth to spread through you.

  
  


“Yeah, I actually got a decent night's sleep. I was calling to see if you were busy today? There’s this vegan place down the road I’ve been dying to try,” you replied, ignoring the way your heart beat faster in anticipation of his answer.

  
  


“OH. WELL THAT’S- THAT SOUNDS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL, HOWEVER, I’M AFRAID I ALREADY HAVE PLANS,” he replied after a brief pause, sounding a little disappointed. You visibly deflated, trying to hold back your own disappointment as you made your way into the kitchen to place your dishes in the sink.

  
  


“Nah, I get it. It’s not like I gave you much notice,” you laughed lightly, wincing at how defeated you sounded. At the last second you decided to ask what was really on your mind, “Is it uh, with that friend of yours? The one who’s stressed out and all that?”

  
  


“IT IS! SHE’S BEEN GOING STIR CRAZY AT HOME SO I AGREED TO GO OUT AND TRAIN WITH HER FOR THE DAY! WE DID IT ALL THE TIME IN THE UNDERGROUND!” he answered eagerly, pleased that you seemed so concerned about his close friend. You were, a little, but only because you selfishly wondered how much longer it would be until they were happy again and you and Papyrus could finally see each other. You let his words stew in your mind for a moment, wondering what about them bothered you so much.

  
  


“Training huh? Like what kind?” you asked casually, turning on the water and beginning to wash a plate.

  
  


“OH! WELL, WE-”

  
  


“Who ya talkin’ to nerd!?” You heard a feminine voice ask, and something about her tone rubbed you the wrong way.

  
  


“UNDYNE! PLEASE CEASE AND DESIST YOUR PESTERING UNTIL I’M DONE SPEAKING WITH CHILI!” Papyrus spoke up again, sounding a little nervous. Why would he be worried? Did... he not want her to know who he was talking to? Did he not want her to know about _you_?

  
  


“ _Chili_? What kind of fucking name is that?” The other voice laughed, and you frowned at her mocking tone. Wow, that was rude of her.

  
  


“THAT’S RUDE OF YOU TO SAY UNDYNE! IT’S A NICKNAME I GAVE HER WHEN WE FIRST MET!”

  
  


“Oh _really_? Is she your new girlfriend or something?” The unknown woman asked accusingly, and that pissed you off. Why did it matter to her? Unless-

  
  


“SHE IS A VERY GOOD FRIEND AND I WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU DIDN’T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT HER AND OUR RELATIONSHIP.” Ouch. That... that stung more than it probably should have. It was great that he was standing up for you but... well, maybe you’d been a little too hopeful for something more after all.

  
  


“Maybe I should go?” you piped up, hoping to leave this incredibly awkward conversation in favor of wallowing in self pity for the rest of the day.

  
  


“I... I WAS VERY MUCH ENJOYING OUR CONVERSATION UNTIL WE WERE _RUDELY_ INTERRUPTED-” It sounded like he'd shoved something, and the raspy snicker that followed confirmed he'd likely pushed Undyne, “WHY DON’T I CALL YOU BACK WHEN WE’RE DONE?”

  
  


“Since you wanna talk to her so bad, why doesn’t she come train with us?” Undyne barked, and although she suggested it she didn’t sound too fond of the idea. What the fuck was her deal?

  
  


“I don’t wanna impose,” you insisted, although you very much did want to, if for nothing else but to see what was so special about this Undyne. So far, she wasn’t winning any best friend awards in your book.

  
  


“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA UNDYNE! I’VE BEEN WANTING ALL OF US TO HANG OUT TOGETHER ANYWAY!” Papyrus sounded so excited, so _happy_ at the prospect of you two meeting, it was impossible to tell him no.

  
  


“Sure Pap, when and where?” you said warmly, smiling at the delighted ‘Nyeh’ he gave in response. He gave you the details quickly, buzzing in excitement the entire time. It was contagious, the same excitement having found its way into your soul as you hung up and went to get ready.

  
  


***

  
  


It didn’t take long for you to arrive at your destination; a local park fifteen minutes from your apartment with numerous walking paths and a large duck pond as its centerpiece. You occasionally came here for evening runs, the scenery and quiet making it appealing for your reclusive nature. You got out of your car and locked it, stepping onto the path at the outskirts of the park to look for Papyrus.

You’d gone for lighter activewear today due to the hot weather, donning a tight fitting sports bra and matching biker shorts in a soft heather grey. On your feet were your trusty jogging sneakers, the soles a little worn from frequent use but still in relatively decent shape. They squeaked every time you moved, which was a little annoying, but they were comfortable and that’s what mattered most.

You scanned the area over monsters and humans alike, searching for the familiar figure of a certain skeleton monster. It didn’t take you long, he was so tall he was hard to miss, and soon you were making your way over to where he stood beneath a small copse of trees. Next to him was a fish monster, her teal scales gleaming in the mid morning sunshine. Her hair was a vivid shade of red, tightly tied up in a ponytail that swayed as she talked to him.

You took in her subtle curves, the rippling of muscles beneath the shifting scales, and the first thing that came to your mind was pretty. Scratch that, she was stunning. It left you with a sense of envy, an onslaught of negative thoughts rising to the forefront of your mind. Why would Papyrus ever want to be with you when he could have _her_ instead? You took a moment to collect yourself before making your presence known.

Papyrus was the first to notice, waving exaggeratedly in your direction, which caused Undyne to turn around to acknowledge you. What met you was a single yellow eye, and it roamed your body in assessment before locking onto your face. An eyepatch was covering the other one, giving her a gracefully rugged look. How that made her even more beautiful, you couldn’t say, and bitter jealousy began to root itself in your chest to bloom into something resentful. Fuck her for being so damn gorgeous when you, well, weren’t.

  
  


No one said anything at first, leaving you to stand in awkward silence. When it seemed like neither of them were going to initiate the conversation, you stiffly stuck your hand out towards the woman and introduced yourself. “You uh, you’re Undyne right? Paps has told me a lot about you.”

  
  


She glared at your hand briefly, mouth set in an unamused frown, and instead of shaking it she bluntly stated, “Yeah that’s me. Funny, he didn’t mention anything about _you_.”

  
  


...This bitch. The fucking nerve. Whatever did you do to have her act like that? You figured it was just a fluke over the phone, perhaps she’d just been worried about who her friend was talking to. Now though, it seemed like she just wasn’t happy with you associating with Papyrus at all, and that certainly wouldn’t do. You had handled Sans’ bullshit just fine when you first met him, you could easily do the same with her.

  
  


“I DID ACTUALLY! CHILI WAS MY COOKING TEACHER AT THE UNIVERSITY! I HAVE BROUGHT HER UP ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS,” Papyrus interrupted, clearly displeased with her attitude. The admittance was gratifying, and also confirmed your suspicions that Undyne was intentionally being rude.

His upset did little to hamper her attitude, for she only crossed her arms and asked, “They let teachers and students date at your university? Isn’t that a little sus Pap?”

  
  


Was... was she trying to pit him against you? What an absolute douche. You shouldn’t intervene, there was clearly more to this conversation than the possibility of you and Papyrus dating, right? Still, that didn’t stop you from leveling her with a look and replying, “They don't. Thankfully, I’m not his teacher anymore.”

  
  


That seemed to have struck a nerve, and it was with a sick pleasure you watched her face contort into contempt. Take that, asshole.

  
  


“WHY DON’T WE DO SOME WARMUPS!” Papyrus immediately picked up on the tense atmosphere, and like the beautiful peacemaker he was, had tried to cause a distraction. Neither you or Undyne responded right away, as if bracing for the other to make an unwelcome remark.

  
  


“Tch, whatever,” the woman said after a moment and turned around, intent on finding a more open space to stretch. You were about to do the same when a gloved hand stopped you.

  
  


“Chili,” he began nervously, pulling away to wring his hands together. You hated it when he did that, you had hoped after knowing him for almost a year that he would feel more comfortable saying what was on his mind. You wanted to grab them, to hold them tightly in yours and tell him there was nothing to worry about, not with you. But you refrained, mainly because you were too much of a coward to be that sappy with him, but also because he obviously needed to get something off his chest.

  
  


“What’s up Skeletor?” you asked instead, trying to show you were listening attentively. It seemed to do the trick, his hands stilled in their musings and his expression returned to its usual brightness. He delicately took your hand, examining it like something precious, and barely gathered the courage to meet your eyes as he said, “I Just Wanted To Inform You That I Think You Look Lovely Today.”

  
  


Oh. Oh no. That was so sweet of him to say, and your dumb ass had no idea how to respond. It wasn’t often compliments were given to you, especially about your appearance. If anyone did have something nice to say, it was usually about your cooking abilities. That was fine with you, there hadn’t been a need for anyone to fawn over how you looked. There still wasn’t, but that didn’t stop the flutter in your chest and the heat rising to your cheeks at his kind words.

  
  


“Oh, uh. I mean, it’s just my workout clothes,” you sputtered, rubbing the back of your head shyly. You didn’t notice Undyne watching at a distance with a frown, nor the way Papyrus stepped a little closer to you.

  
  


“Well, They Certainly Suit You,” his grin had turned charming as he spoke, and you swore his voice went down an octave at the same time. Fuck, that was really sexy. He was still holding your hand, and it didn’t seem like he planned on letting go of it any time soon. If anything he appeared to be leaning closer, the collar of his shirt shifting to reveal his clavicle. Oh. That was a wonderful view. Was it suddenly warmer outside or was it just you?

  
  


“Hey nerd! Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” Undyne snarked, making you realize you’d been caught blatantly checking him out.

  
  


You quickly whipped your head in her direction, the pleasantness of the moment evaporating instantly. You broke free from Papyrus’ grasp to turn to her, eyes filled with no small amount of irritation. Your last thread of patience seemed to finally snap, and against your better judgement you barked, “What’s your fucking problem?”

  
  


“My problem is that you’re flirting with my bestie like some perv!” She growled, revealing two rows of serrated teeth. She stood up to get into your personal space, squaring her shoulders and using her height to try and intimidate you. It wasn’t working, it only fueled the fire burning in your soul, stoking it into a raging inferno.

  
  


“How is that any of your business? He’s the one who initiated!”

  
  


“Are you calling him a pervert now!?”

  
  


“What? No!”

  
  


“FRIENDS, THERE’S NO NEED TO-”

  
  


“Stay out of this Papyrus,” you and Undyne said in unison without breaking eye contact. You’d both puffed out your chests, neither one willing to back down from the silent challenge. Seconds turned into minutes, and in that time you and Undyne had gotten so close your noses were practically touching. Papyrus fidgeted uncomfortably, looking between you two nervously.

You didn’t know what set you off, all you remembered was that Undyne had begun to lift her hand, and your body immediately went on the defensive. In one fluid motion you’d grabbed her wrist, twisting it and holding it behind her back. Using all of your body weight you pushed forward, throwing the woman and yourself face first onto the ground. A whoosh of air left her mouth, caught off guard by the sudden assault and unable to brace herself. When you came back to your senses, you sucked air into your teeth, staring at her back in disbelief.

  
  


“S-Shit, I didn’t mean-” you were interrupted by Undyne rearing up and knocking you off balance. You tumbled to the side, and she used the opportunity to free her wrist and pin you down. Your hand automatically shot out and gripped the back of her neck, and you forced her head forward to cradle it against your shoulder. Quickly lifting your knee between her legs, you used the leverage to roll her onto her back and pressed a forearm against her neck.

She gaped at you with a wide eye as you loomed over her. Your chest heaved from exertion, adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you jittery. You waited a beat, making sure she didn’t plan on attacking again, before using the butt of your hand to push her face aside while you rolled back onto your feet. You took the time to dust off your clothes, about to help her up when her foot abruptly collided with your face.

Stars briefly filled your vision, and the world momentarily went black. When everything came back into view you were on your back and were greeted by the swaying branches overhead. They were quickly overshadowed by a very concerned Papyrus, who knelt down and slowly eased you into a sitting position. It wasn’t slow enough, your head began to spin and you gripped his shoulder in hopes of righting yourself.

When that didn’t work, you settled for closing your eyes, head lolling to rest against his chest. He stiffened, and when he moved you could feel cloth covered fingers carding through your hair. They then went to grip your chin, lifting your head so he could examine your face. You chanced opening your eyes to find him incredibly close, and you felt more than saw the blush blossoming onto your complexion.

  
  


“Uh, can I help you?” You asked, subconsciously touching your face in fear something was on it. Your fingers came away covered in blood, making you scrunch your brows. Damn, you didn’t think she’d kicked you that hard. Searching for the source of injury you winced when you grazed your nose, pain shooting through your head when you applied pressure.

  
  


“You’re Hurt,” Papyrus murmured, cupping your cheeks to try and get a better look at it. You jerked away, feeling a little guilty for being the cause of his frown, but you didn’t need him hovering over you. Yeah, it hurt like hell, but it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t even broken. Probably.

  
  


“I’ll be fine Pap. Human noses bleed easily. It’ll stop in a few minutes,” you replied, feeling confident enough to try and stand. He was on you like white on rice, ready to catch you should you fall, and although you knew he meant well it only irritated you. You lightly pushed him back, wiping the blood away on your arm and looked around to find your assailant.

Undyne stood off to the side, face a mixture of concerned and guilty, her stance closed off and defensive. A webbed hand was rubbing her arm, and she lightly kicked a rock near her boot. She wouldn’t look at you, even when you approached her calmly. Only when you crossed your arms did she acknowledge you, and she seemed prepared for the worst.

  
  


“Punk, listen-”

  
  


“Stop. I don’t do that ‘I’m Sorry’ bullshit. It’s pointless and frankly makes me feel weird. We’ll pretend it never happened. However,” you stepped forward, standing on your toes in an attempt to get close to her face as you spoke lower, “You ever take a cheap shot at me again, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in Fish Bitch.”

  
  


A beat of tense silence, then Undyne was laughing. Random passerby gave her strange looks as they walked by, the volume of her howling echoing around the park. You blinked, failing to find the humor in the situation, and were about to question it when she gave your shoulder a hardy pat.

  
  


“You got some balls, punk! Quick on your feet too. You’re alright, for a human.” She was sporting her best toothy grin, and squeezed your shoulder before pulling back. You didn’t know how to feel about the sudden change in demeanor, or her last comment. Wasn’t that just as bad as calling one of them monster? Oh well, one fight was enough for you today, no point in starting another.

  
  


“Yeah well, since you’re Pap’s friend, I guess you’re alright too,” you replied reluctantly. Despite her previously rude behavior, you had to give credit where it was due. She was strong, probably stronger than you if she hadn’t been caught off guard, and you’d be the first to admit when someone showcased talent. That alone deserved a little bit of respect, but it didn’t mean you had to like her, especially when she seemed so against anything happening between you and Papyrus.

  
  


“WELL. THAT WAS INCREDIBLY OVER THE TOP AND UNNECESSARY,” Papyrus deadpanned, clearly done with both of you and your shit. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but when you and Undyne looked at each other at the same time, a snort escaped you. This only made Undyne snicker, and soon both of you were laughing at the skeleton’s expense. Said skeleton frowned, crossing his arms and huffing in offense, but the tiny smirk tugging his teeth told you he wasn’t really upset. On the contrary, he looked relieved, and that made you feel better.

  
  


“So, are you guys dating or what? Cause it looks to me like you two wanna bone each other,” Undyne said once the laughter died down, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  
  


“Uhhh, oh my God what’s that!” You pointed behind Undyne, then promptly booked it in the other direction when she went to look. Was that incredibly childish of you? Absolutely. However, it was much better than being forced to acknowledge a question you didn’t know the answer to. You wanted to, but that meant having a serious discussion with Papyrus, and to you that was the equivalent of trying to give a feral cat a bath.

You made it halfway to the pond when she noticed your disappearance, and her loud battle cry sent a shiver through your spine. The sound of clunky steps rapidly approaching sent your heart racing, blood roaring in your ears as you pushed your limits to try and lose her. It was hopeless, her legs were longer and she seemed to have more stamina, and all too soon she was closing the gap and tackling you to the ground. You squawked as you hit the dirt, both of you rolling in a tangle of limbs down the hill towards the pond. By some miracle, you stopped right at the water’s edge, sprawled side by side flat on your backs.

The sound of heavy breathing filled the air as you tried to catch your breath, body slicked with sweat. Damn, you were really out of shape. Brushing back the hair plastered to your sticky face, you slowly sat up to check on Undyne. She was staring up at the sky with a look of awe, fully enraptured by the clouds rolling by. You followed her gaze and saw a large, fluffy one making its way across the expanse of blue at a slow crawl.

  
  


“That one looks like a dick,” you pointed out, earning you a surprised laugh from the fish woman beside you. She studied it for a second, only to laugh harder and point at a different one, “That one looks like a giant pair of tits.”

  
  


“No way, that’s obviously a juicy ass.”

  
  


“Damn, I think you’re right,” she chuckled, making herself more comfortable by placing an arm behind her head. Eventually you flopped down next to her, the gentle lapping of water and swishing of grass in the breeze a soothing cadence to your ears.

  
  


“CHILI! UNDYNE!” The peacefulness was interrupted by Papyrus calling for you as he made his way down the slope at a brisk pace, looking flustered. He stopped at your feet, taking in your position with hands on his hips. You offered a lazy wave, before pointing up and saying, “Hey Skeletor. We’re looking for dicks and butts in the clouds.”

  
  


“B-BU- WELL THAT’S! YOU TWO ARE JUST!” He balked, that beautiful shade of orange returning to his cheeks, and Undyne shamelessly snickered at his reaction.

  
  


“Stop being a weenie and help us find more!” She crowed, obviously goading him for a bigger reaction. He easily took the bait, flushing deeper and stomping his foot indignantly.

  
  


“I REFUSE TO PARTAKE IN SUCH A LEWD ACTIVITY! I CAME DOWN HERE WORRIED YOU TWO HAD GOTTEN INTO ANOTHER SPAT, ONLY TO DISCOVER SOMETHING EVEN WORSE!”

  
  


“ _This_ is worse than us fighting? I thought you’d be glad we’re getting along,” you said incredulously. He crossed his arms in a childish pout, turning his head away and lifting it into the air with a loud ‘humph’.

  
  


“I AM. I’M JUST DISAPPOINTED THAT IT’S OVER SOMETHING AS IMMATURE AS... THAT.”

  
  


“You’re fucking with me, right? Undyne, please tell me he’s fucking with us.” You turned to her for support and saw she was pretending to snooze. Traitor.

  
  


“THAT’S THIRTY DOLLARS TO THE SWEAR JAR NOW.”

  
  


You groaned loudly, dropping your arm over your eyes as Undyne immediately “woke up” to laugh at you.

  
  


“SWEAR JAR? HE MADE YOU GET ONE OF THOSE?” She cackled, now intent on goading _you_ for a reaction. Unlike Papyrus, you didn’t respond, instead rolling over so you were facing the pond. You traced a finger in the wet soil, pressing down to make small indents while you deliberately ignored both of them. Maturity was not your strong suit today.

  
  


“CHILI,” Papyrus scolded, crouching down to inspect your work. You side eyed him momentarily, before going back to your task. You began to draw penises in the mud, trying not to smirk at the scoff Papyrus made at the sight. You were in the process of making one with a particularly large set of balls when a strong arm wrapped around your waist. In one fell swoop Papyrus had lifted you up and thrown you over his shoulder, and sharply turned to march up the hill with purpose.

  
  


“P-Pap! What’re you doing?” You gasped, shifting to maintain balance, and got a full view of his hips and coccyx from underneath pink shorts in the process. Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

  
  


“IT IS TIME FOR LUNCH, AND SINCE YOU WANTED TO IGNORE ME, I DECIDED TO TAKE MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS.”

  
  


“You could have just said that instead of throwing me around like a sack of potatoes!” You protested, letting your arms dangle uselessly in defeat. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the fact he was able to carry you so effortlessly was really doing it for you.

  
  


“Hey _loser_! Quit checking out his ass!”

  
  


Papyrus' abrupt halt lurched you forward, and you would have fallen if not for his firm grip on your waist. Your face had flushed a deep crimson, and suddenly you were whipped around as your captor turned to address Undyne.

  
  


“UNDYNE! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT TEASING MY DEAREST FRIEND?” You couldn’t see his expression, but his bones had grown hot against your skin, and you thought his voice was a little higher pitched. You heard Undyne giggle deviously, clearly amused by whatever reaction he was giving her. You wanted to see it too, but your current position made that impossible. Blood had begun rushing to your head, and you hoped he’d put you down soon.

  
  


“Fuhuhu, I’m just telling the truth! She’s been staring at your ass the entire time!” The fish monster exclaimed, and you imagined she was giving him the most wicked shark grin. Smug bitch.

  
  


“I don’t really have much of a choice!” You chimed in, staring at said ass because there wasn’t anywhere else to look. Lifting up your head took a lot of effort, especially with the head rush starting to make you feel dizzy. Papyrus whipped around again at your words, causing you to grow woozy. Okay, time to get down now.

  
  


“P-Put me down. I’m gonna be sick,” you blanched, already feeling the bile beginning to rise in your throat. He immediately complied, a little too fast for your liking, and once on your feet you stumbled right into his chest. He instinctively brought his arms around you, craning his neck to get a better look at you. With the blood having shifted so quickly, you had paled significantly, and you took slow breaths while your body stabilized.

  
  


“Oh Stars, You’re So Pale. I Didn’t Hurt You Did I?” It sounded like he was about to cry, and you looked up to find him wrought with guilt and concern. Your heart twisted painfully, and you found yourself trying to give a weak smile while reaching up to pat his cheek.

  
  


“I’m fine babe. Promise,” you reassured, the pet name slipping from your lips with little thought. He noticed, and you were once again gifted with that adorable blush of his. Man, he sure was cute.

  
  


“W-Well That’s... That’s Good,” his sentence had trailed off into a breathless whisper, eyes searching your face delicately. His blush deepened when he brushed a stray hair out of your eyes, which had you flushing in return.

This was the part where you kissed him. It happened in one of those terrible rom coms he made you watch, where the quirky love interest had charmed the closed-off main character with their earnest nature. They’d gotten lost in each other's eyes, and were so distracted they’d failed to notice their faces getting closer. It’d ended with a hesitant kiss, that quickly delved into something passionate as they gripped onto each other like their lives depended on it.

You’d rolled your eyes and pretended to gag, while Papyrus clung to every second, eyelights bright stars with the hope that he’d get to have that moment himself one day. You didn’t understand his enthusiasm back then, but now that you were stuck in the same scenario, with someone you were very much charmed by, it was a little easier to see the appeal. So maybe that was why you’d begun to close the distance between you, the welcoming embrace of his teeth at the back of your mind as you aimed to relive the sensation. Too bad you didn’t get the chance to.

  
  


“HEY LOVENERDS! STOP SUCKING FACE AND GET YOUR ASSES UP HERE. I’M STARVING,” Undyne called from the top of the hill with a shit eating grin. Oooh, she was gonna be dust when you got your hands on her.

His breath hitched in surprise, it ghosting against your lips due to the close proximity. You found yourself missing the warmth of it when he moved away to look at Undyne with an indiscernible expression. You outright glared at her, getting pretty tired of being interrupted today.

  
  


“I’m suddenly not hungry,” you declared, only to be betrayed by your gurgling stomach. Papyrus tried to hide his laugh, but inevitably a huffed “Nyeh” came out, earning him a snort from you. He offered you his hand, smiling brightly as he asked, “SHALL WE MY DEAR?”

  
  


“Y-Yeah,” you replied, shyly entwining your fingers together while deliberately not making eye contact. This wasn’t the first time you’d held hands with him, but for some reason it felt different. You let him lead you up the hill to where Undyne had kindly waited for you. The way she was eyeing your joined hands did not slip your notice, nor did the small “fuhuhu" coming from behind you as you passed her. Whatever, you didn’t owe her anything.

The park was practically deserted by the time you made it to the picnic area, the sweltering heat having scared off any sane person. Unfortunately, you were not in sane company, and thus were forced to suffer in silence as the three of you went to select a table. The only other being present was a short lizard monster, who seemed to have an awful lot of food for just one person. The pale pink dress and white cardigan she wore complimented her yellow scales, the glasses perched on her snout giving her a sweet innocence.

You were surprised by the excited gasp Undyne made, and even more surprised when she zoomed ahead with incredible speed to scoop up the other woman into a bone crushing hug.

  
  


“BABE! I THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T GOING TO BE HOME FOR ANOTHER WEEK?” Came Undyne’s delighted shriek, twirling the now blushing lizard round and round until she looked ready to hurl. Wait, ‘Babe’?

  
  


“T-The conference ended a l-little early, so I was a-able to s-switch flights,” the lizard woman replied demurely, her blush deepening at the attention. She endured Undyne’s rapidfire kisses and cheek rubbing in good humor, a dopey smiling slowly overcoming her features. Undyne was obviously ecstatic, unable to keep her hands off the poor woman and so wrapped up in giving her affection she seemed to have forgotten you and Papyrus were even there. If you were paying attention, you would have thought they were adorable, but right now all you could think was-

  
  


“Oh my God. She’s gay,” you whispered disbelievingly. All at once the tension you hadn't realized you'd been holding melted away, a short laugh following in relief.

  
  


“YES? IS THAT AN ISSUE? I THOUGHT LUCIAN WAS GAY?” Papyrus’ voice boomed above you, startling you with its abruptness.

  
  


“No! No, it’s not. I just,” you paused to shake your head. Stars you were so dumb. You smiled at him, unable to hide the warmth in it as you continued, “It’s nothing. I’m just realizing how big of an idiot I am. Again.”

  
  


“I BELIEVE YOU AND I HAVE DIFFERENT OPINIONS ABOUT THE MEANING OF THAT WORD,” he hummed, making your smile widen.

  
  


“Probably.” You took note that you were still holding hands with him. The porous texture of his bones against your calloused hand was comforting, and you discovered you’d greatly missed it.

You’d missed a lot of things while you were apart. His quirky laugh, his boisterous gestures, the crazy ideas he dragged you into that often ended in disaster. There was never a dull moment with Papyrus, and as your gaze lingered on your entwined fingers, you couldn’t help but think you wanted more of it. More of him, for as long as he'd have you.

The 'what ifs' that had been on your mind the past few weeks seemed so trivial now. When he was around, you didn't have to worry, because deep down you knew he'd always be there when you needed him. You vowed then and there that you'd be there when he needed you too.

  
  


“Pap, I-”

  
  


“LET’S GO ON A DATE.”

  
  


“...Say what now?” You turned to him in bewilderment.

  
  


“CHILI, I KNOW YOU HEARD ME PERFECTLY FINE, BUT FOR THE SAKE OF AVOIDING ANY FUTURE MISUNDERSTANDINGS-” He bent down to hover an inch or so from your face, a cocky grin spread across his teeth that you thought looked incredibly attractive on him. When he spoke again it was at a much slower pace, his pitch lowering to a sultry croon as he murmured, “I Said, Let’s Go On A Date.”

  
  


_Oh._

  
  


“O-Okay,” you replied intelligently, lit up like a christmas tree and trying _very_ hard not to lose yourself in the sinful images running through your head. How could a skeleton be so Goddamn sexy?

  
  


“EXCELLENT! WE’LL SET UP A DAY AND TIME AFTER LUNCH.” His smile was blinding, and he straightened up and walked away as if he hadn’t just given you emotional whiplash. That left you standing there, jaw slack and eyes glazed over in dazed confusion. A soft squeal shook you from your stupor.

  
  


“I s-ship it so hard!” You thought you heard the lizard woman gush, but when you glanced at her she’d hidden behind Undyne’s bicep. Undyne looked smug as all get out, displaying a knowing smile as she beckoned you to join them. When Papyrus wasn't looking, you not so subtly flipped her off, then reluctantly trudged over to introduce yourself and dig into the food.

  
  


Man, what a fucking day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me... way too long to write. There was lots of blood, sweat, tears, and erasing large chunks of progress. I think I can say I'm finally happy with it! I hope you all enjoy. ALSO!
> 
> SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO MY LOVELIEST FRIEND CATLER00 FOR DRAWING A COMIC FOR MTE????? THEIR WORK IS AMAZING AND I WILL FOREVER CHERISH THEIR ART!! Go check em out at https://catler00.tumblr.com/
> 
> https://imgur.com/a/pEAu5FZ
> 
> AND JUST WHEN I THOUGHT IT COULDN'T GET BETTER! GIGIREE ALSO MADE SOMETHING FOR ME!! I about cried when I saw it, it's just too cute. Please go check out her fic that this was inspired by Just Enough! It's soooo worth the read and will help you understand some sides of this fic!
> 
> https://imgur.com/a/kmiTt4a


	15. Rainy Day

Most days, you didn’t mind a little rain. The cloudy skies and constant patter of water had its perks, a lulling calm that gave you a sense of serenity. It was the perfect excuse to wrap yourself up in a soft blanket and stare out the window, a hot beverage in hand to idly sip in contentment. In most situations, you’d even go so far to say you  _ enjoyed _ a rainy day here or there.

  
  


Today was an exception.

  
  


The double doors of Grillby’s loudly creaked open, revealing your silhouette looming at the entrance. Water trickled in small streams down your legs, dripping to the floor and pooling into your shoes. The sound of squelching echoed every step you took, leaving a wet trail in your wake. The normal chorus of greeting was silenced at the sight of you, fading away into hushed whispers as the patrons discussed. You paid them no mind, whatever they had to say couldn’t dampen (heh) your mood anymore than your current predicament had.

It was safe to say your hat was done for, having taken the brunt of the downpour, it now a saggy mess atop your head. No amount of fiddling could encourage the bill to curve back into place, leaving it to flop listlessly in your vision. Silently, you laid it to rest on the bartop, a loud slap emphasizing its untimely demise. Grillby, who hadn’t so much as blinked at your sorry appearance, picked it up and tossed it in the trash. The cloth he’d been using to polish a glass swiped over the counter once, then returned to its previous task.

“It’s raining rather heavily today,” he noted, expression blank and unwavering as he looked at you.

  
  


“Ya don’t say,” you gritted out, teeth chattering as you hoisted the box of produce onto the bar. It was a miracle your tablet had made it out unscathed, only a few droplets on its screen as you opened it to the signature pad. “Sign, please.”

  
  


“Would you like something to drink?” He offered evenly, hands worrying away at the glass expertly.

  
  


“I don’t drink,” you said politely, trying to suppress the shivers wracking your body. It was putting it lightly to say you were soaked, at this point you were swimming in your own personal pool of rainwater. The uniform you wore was drenched, hugging close to your frame with an uncomfortable stickiness. Pants sagged from the extra water weight, threatening to fall from your hips at a moment's notice. Your shoes were creating their own aquatic ecosystems with the amount of water flooding the insides, and you didn’t have the energy to dump them out.

  
  


He considered you for a moment, then set down his things to disappear into the kitchen. You waited for him to return, not that you had a choice, he hadn’t signed for his delivery, and were surprised to find him coming back with a mug in hand. With a soft clink Grillby passed it over, a small curl of steam rising from its recesses. You stared at it with subtle wariness, before reaching out with a trembling hand to take it. The handle was warm, bringing life to your stiff fingers as you gently brought it to your lips, and at the first sip heat seeped into your very soul.

  
  


“Fuck, that hits the spot. What is it?” You groaned, lost in the bliss that came from the small white mug.

  
  


“Golden Flower Tea,” Grillby stated matter of fact, then promptly signed his receipt. “It’s a popular blend from Underground.”

  
  


“Huh, beats the hell out of Sea Tea,” you mused, downing the last of it in three large gulps. With a bit of effort you took out your waterlogged wallet, fishing out a few soggy bills to give to him. He waved them away dismissively, leaving you with a perplexed expression.

  
  


“Consider it a thank you for working in hazardous conditions.” It was faint, perhaps a trick of the light, but you were certain he was smiling. Well, how about that.

  
  


“I’m only doing my duty,” you replied wrly, stowing away your wallet and offering a lazy salute, “Well, if that’s all, I’m off to brave the rising tides.”

  
  


“Actually, if you have a moment,” Grillby called to your retreating form, “I’d like to discuss something with you.”

  
  


“That’s always reassuring.” You made your way back over and sat down on the closest stool. If he heard the sarcasm he didn’t comment on it, instead pulled a menu from underneath the bar to give to you.

  
  


“I’m looking to expand my menu in the upcoming months. I’d like to include a few non-magical dishes to accommodate those who are wary of monster food,” he explained, opening the booklet for you to inspect, “Considering your culinary expertise, I was hoping you would be willing to come up with a few samples.”

  
  


“You want me to cook for you?” You asked in disbelief, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Surely there had to be a catch. When his expression gave you no answers, you glanced down at the menu thoughtfully. Scanning the list of items, you mentally took into consideration the overall theme of his dishes and tried to find what might be missing.

  
  


“Your menu is pretty small, is that on purpose or for lack of resources?” You asked absently, flipping to the back and perusing the drinks. You wouldn’t be much help there, alcohol was alcohol no matter how you shook or stirred it, and you weren’t going back on your sobriety for a favor. Grillby took your question in stride by simply saying, “I prefer simplicity.”

  
  


“Duly noted. Aside from the limited choices, it's pretty diverse. Your drinks seem to be more elaborate, I’m assuming the majority of this is monster alcohol?” He nodded, and you deftly closed the menu to look up at him. Grabbing a pen from your breast pocket, you yanked a napkin from the dispenser and jotted something down. Sliding it over to a fiery hand you said, “Here’s my number and schedule. Text me a day and time that works best for you. I can’t promise anything spectacular, but I’m sure we could work something out.”

  
  


“Your time is appreciated, I’ll be sure to compensate you for it.” It was your turn to wave him off, offering a small grin as you replied, “Nah, we’re good. I still owe you for handling Pip’s truck for me.” This time you knew he was smiling, and strange as it was, it was nice to see it.

  
  


“how touchin’. what’s next, friendship bracelets?”

  
  


“Sans,” you greeted with thinly veiled disdain, “What a pleasant surprise.” Sans shrugged, shuffling past to sit in his usual spot with a lazy wave.

  
  


“wish i could say the same for you kid. grillbz, the usual.” Grillby straightened, then vanished once again to retrieve Sans’ order. You were quiet during his departure, deciding it was probably time for you to bounce. Stretching in wet clothes wasn’t easy, but you managed just fine and got a few satisfying pops out of the deal. With a soft groan you rolled your shoulders, tilting your neck side to side to loosen the muscles before turning away, “Well, it’s been a real blast. See ya never.”

  
  


“think i won’t be around to see ya off on your little date?” Sans asked casually, but the twitch of his phalanges told another story. You stopped mid turn, contemplating for a moment, then strode over to his side. Sans didn’t move, toying with a random salt shaker in feigned interest.

Grillby was back as quick as he’d left, a plate of burger and fries in tow. The smell of them was inviting, the bottle of ketchup next to them was not. Sans nodded his thanks, shaking the bottle vigorously before taking a generous sip from the opening. You blanched, struggling to comprehend how him and Papyrus were even related, let alone how he put up with Sans’ disgusting habits, only to realize asking stupid questions only got you stupid answers. After a deep sigh, you leaned over and snatched up a fry.

  
  


“I don’t really care what you do. Paps asked me out, and I said yes. So that’s what we’re gonna do,” you said before popping it in your mouth, not bothering with swallowing as the remaining crumbs dissolved on your tongue, “Sooner or later you’re gonna have to accept that I’m not going anywhere.”

  
  


“can solve that problem real quick,” Sans muttered darkly.

  
  


Your face immediately hardened. “Is that a threat?”

  
  


“i’d say yeah, but then you’d probably stick around longer to spite me.” He barely spared you a glance, taking a fry of his own and drowning it in ketchup. Red stained his cheeks as he ate it, and didn’t bother with wiping it away. Instead, he dumped the remainder of the bottle onto his plate and shoveled the burger into that permanent grin.

You needed to leave, you were bordering on the line of pissed and now wasn’t the time to pick fights. He was obviously trying to get under your skin, wanting a reaction for his own amusement. You wouldn’t give it to him, nothing good came from playing his game. Still...

  
  


“Why can’t you just let him be happy?”

  
  


A hush fell over the bar, tension rising from the patrons as they watched the scene unfold. A minute went by, then two, and just when you thought you weren’t going to get an answer Sans spoke.

  
  


“you think he’ll be happy with you? miss commitment issues? just bouncing back from a drinking binge and tryin’ to act like you’re above it all?” The ketchup bottle cracked from the pressure of his grip, crumbling into a pile of glass upon its release. You swallowed hard, studying the glistening shards stained in crimson. Shifting your gaze back to Sans you found his sockets devoid of light, boring holes into the bartop. He made no move towards you, didn’t lift a finger, but the threat was there, hanging in the balance and waiting for you to make a decision. You decided to go for broke.

  
  


“No, but I want to try. It’s the least I can do,” you said softly, a level of honesty in the words even you weren’t expecting. He laughed abruptly, humorlessly, slapping a hand down from the effort. His skull wrenched towards you, eyelights back and blazing, “the least you could do is end it now before you make it worse.”

  
  


This son of a...

  
  


The bell above the entrance chimed, and everyone turned to see who entered. A modsmal and woshua were standing there, chatting away happily until they noticed they had an audience. Their conversation fell away into awkward silence, and after a moment of fidgeting in place they slowly exited. There were other places they could eat at where they wouldn’t be stared down.

  
  


Taking that as your cue to depart, you looked back at Sans and said, “I gotta go, need to get ready for my date. Thanks for the chat, it’s been real swell. Anyway, see ya.” You wagged your fingers in the air as you walked away, only to stop at the door to add, “Oh, and Sans?”

  
  


Silence was your reply, and knowing it was the best you were going to get you continued, “You’re shirt’s on backwards. Thought you’d wanna know.”

  
  


Stepping out into the chilly rain was a welcome embrace to your hot skin, cleansing you of all anger and frustration. Yeah, even when soaked to the bone, you couldn’t help but think rainy days weren’t so bad.

  
  


Sans wordlessly watched the door close, let the hinges settle before inspecting his shirt. Huh, seemed you were right, it was inside out to boot. Oh well, fuck you.

  
  


“gimme a drink grillbz.” A small shot glass slid into his open palm, amber liquid sloshing from the momentum. Didn’t hesitate to knock it back past his parted teeth to relish in the burn. Except it never came.

  
  


“fuck, really? apple juice?”

  
  


Grillby pretended not to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks... instead of a date I give you pissed off Sans. I'm sorry but also not sorry. The date will be soon, that I promise! I felt it was really important that Sans and Chili have this moment, oh, and Grillby's cool I guess. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I'm surprised people are still here on this rollercoaster with me.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love and appreciate all of you and read all of your comments, even if I don't reply.


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